


Problem Child

by TGP



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers rehashing, Child Abuse, Flashback, General 1940s suck, He totally isn't, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Jossing of various other MCU films, Kid Tony Stark, Loki is a dick, M/M, Mind Control, PTSD, Pairing is eventual, References to Abuse, Responsibility, Sam Wilson is a fuckin gift, Slow Build, Sterilization, Steve has terrible coping mechanisms, Steve is not working for SHIELD, Steve is so done with the future, Steve is super bisexual, This is not a thing I will ever give up, Time Travel, Tony's not much better, Violence, no really, not even a little
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGP/pseuds/TGP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks after Steve wakes up, a kid hacks SHIELD and sets every computer to blast AC/DC at random. Now Steve's looking after Howard's get and an evil alien is attacking the world. This is the best day ever. Really. </p><p>Steve might just find a way to go back in time and punch Howard in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let There Be Rock

**Author's Note:**

> So canon divergence. When is plot relevant so I can't give much but do expect there to be several changes to the world in general. :3

It’s not that he _didn’t_ think someone could pull a prank on SHIELD. It’s that he didn’t think anyone who knew about SHIELD _would_ , but Steve is pretty sure it’s not standard procedure to play rowdy rock music at top volume in SHIELD headquarters. Especially not when they managed to get Steve to come in, trying to convince him to join up. (He refused.)

It doesn’t help that each computer seems to be playing the same song at different intervals which means he has no idea what the words are because everything clashes so bad into more of a noise bath than most modern music is already. Steve’s got certain opinions about modern music.

It takes them about an hour to get every computer silent and uninstall the prompts that had caused the mayhem. In the same hour, they’ve tracked down the culprit. And somehow Steve is still here.

“So that’s him?”

“That’s him,” the handler says mildly.

Steve stares through a pane of one way glass into the interrogation room. The kid in the chair doesn’t look too worried. He’s slumped in it, head propped on his raised fist. The cuff around his wrist has to be for show because Steve would bet those thin fingers could slide right through it. He looks bored, like he’s got no idea just how much trouble he’s in, but something tells Steve he really does. He just doesn’t care – or doesn’t want them to know he does.

The agent sitting across from the kid keeps tapping his pen on the table with growing impatience as the kid either ignores his questions or mouths off. They don’t seem to be getting anywhere.

“ _Who showed you how to do it?_ ”

“ _Pft. Like anyone had to_ show _me._ ”

There’s a good amount of pride in the kid’s voice, all bravado and confidence. He doesn’t think it’s faked. Or, if it is, it’s not the _skill_ that’s faked. It reminds him a little of Bucky. And then it doesn’t at all because Steve has enough problems without remembering Bucky. He folds his arms as he watches the kid keep deflecting and aggravating like he’s been trained to do so.

“Why am I here?” Steve asks after another few minutes because really, it’s not like he’s all that experienced with teenagers. He remembers being one and he doesn’t think he dealt with his age mates particularly well then, either. Besides, he doesn’t actually work for SHIELD (“Yet,” Fury keeps telling him), as much as they would like him to.

“We thought maybe trying someone with a little more… friendliness might help loosen him up,” the handler replies blandly. Steve keeps having trouble remembering the guy’s name. He knows it’s rude, but the guy is kind of forgettable except for his whole uncomfortable fascination with Captain America.

“You’re kidding.”

“Just try it.”

“When are you guys going to get it through your heads that I don’t work for you?”

“Consider it a favor for a fan.”

“This better not be a ploy to get-”

The agent in the room abruptly lunges across the table at the kid. Steve moves before he’s thinking, slamming the door open with his shoulder. He grabs two handfuls of the agent’s jacket and jerks him off the kid, tossing him bodily across the room. The handler- Coulson, that’s his name- Coulson’s right after him and as Steve puts himself between the agent and the kid, Coulson drags the guy up and out of the interrogation room.

Leaving Steve with a surly teenage boy that now sported a busted lip. Great. What the hell is his life anymore.

The two of them eye each other as the kid tongues the bleeding slit in his lip like it doesn’t hurt. Awkwardly, Steve drags out his handkerchief and offers it but the kid just looks at him like he’s nuts. His eyes narrow and Steve absently catalogues the deep brown color. His hair is darker, near black, short on the sides and back, fluffy and slightly curly on top, falling over his forehead and into his eyes. Thin face, strong jaw, slight dimple in the chin that’s sure to deepen as he ages. Thick brows, thick lashes. Steve puts him at maybe sixteen, barest edge of uneven stubble on his chin, but he really isn’t great at guessing when it comes to kids (or women, for that matter.) About the only ones he ever had much contact with were Bucky’s sisters and they’d cheerfully told him their ages often enough to keep straight.

“Guess you ate your vegetables, huh, He-Man?” the kid drawls out as he leans back in his chair, letting it rest precariously on the back legs. He’s gone back to being lazy and guarded.

Steve doesn’t get the reference but he’s pretty sure the kid would use that against him somehow. He sits down in the chair the agent vacated. “Guess so. Got a name, pal?”

“Maybe. Do you, _pal?_ ”

“Steve.” He considers what it might take to impress a kid and adds, “Captain Steve Rogers.”

The kid blinks once and something shifts. Abruptly, he’s not amused anymore. “Really? You poor soul. Patriotic parents?”

“Well, my father served if that’s what you mean.” He’s not sure what that has to do with anything.

“Your buddies tease you about it?”

“About my father?”

The kid scoffs like Steve’s stupid and starts picking at his nails. Steve isn’t happy to see that they’re bitten down bloody and the skin around them is pink and scabby. “About your _name_.”

“No, not really. They were more about the whole Star Spangled Man thing-” Steve stops because the kid twitches and abruptly jerks his head up to stare hard at him. “What?”

“Oh my god,” the kid says with disgust. He gets to his feet, glaring as his hands tighten up into shaking fists and Steve wonders just what he’s done. “You guys are _low_. What, you didn’t think you could break me so they send you in here to pretend to be _Captain freaking America?_ Do you think I’m _stupid?_ ”

Steve gives it a few seconds to let the kid huff before he says a little sheepishly. “Well. You did hack into a top secret government organization.”

“Like it was _hard_. Your security is a joke.”

“Still got caught.”

The kid scowls and sits down again. “If I’d had time, I could have wiped you out.”

Steve just nods because there’s no merit in fighting with the kid about it. Maybe he could have. He was apparently bright enough to worry a few people into tracking him down. Coulson said they’d found him in a public library using one of the courtesy computers.

“Tony,” the kid says suddenly. He’s not looking at Steve, back to picking at his nails. Steve smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Tony snorts. “I’m surprised they didn’t send you in here with a suit on.”

“It’s probably best left in the museum.” Steve considers something. “What was it you made the computers play?”

“Only the best band alive.” Tony shrugs. “I figure anyone’d known Dirty Deeds.”

Steve pulls out his notebook and jots it down. He’s not sure if Dirty Deeds is the band or the song but he doubts that matters. Before he can ask more, there’s a knock and then Coulson sticks his head in.

“Captain Rogers, a moment?”

“Oh my god, your name really _is_ Steve Rogers?”

Steve gets up and gives Tony a smile. “It was nice talking to you, Tony.”

The kid is silent as Steve files out to the hall but follows him with fugitive eyes. Coulson closes the door after him and motions for him to come near. Steve has a bad feeling about this.

“The blood sample Agent Connell obtained-”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Steve interjects, suddenly livid on Tony’s behalf. “You know that’s a _minor_ , right!?”

Coulson goes on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The sample is currently being run against our databanks. A child clever enough to hack into even a fraction of our mainframe had to have been noticed before now. We should know within a day or so who he is, especially after you obtained his name. Good job.”

“Just tell me that idiot’s getting his for that stunt.”

“Of course. We don’t condone child abuse here no matter how aggravating the individual. Believe me, he’s already been reported.”

Steve huffs out a breath, slightly mollified, and turns to look at the glass again. Tony’s still sprawled in his chair, but he’s looking less bored and more like a lonely, scared kid. Maybe that’s just Steve projecting.

“So, what’s going to happen to him?”

“Don’t worry about that. He’s being handled.” Steve looks at Coulson, eyes narrowing, and the agent smiles back. “ _I’m_ handling him.”

That actually does relax him a bit even though he’s known the man less than two weeks. He’s pretty sure Coulson won’t let anything more happen to the kid, but… maybe he’ll check in here and there. Just to make sure.

Steve finally drags himself away from Interrogation. The longer he stays, the more risk he has of getting forcibly employed.

\----

They beg him to come in two days later because Tony refuses to talk to anyone except “the Captain America wannabe” and they still don’t know who he is because, surprise surprise, no record of his DNA. Steve’s in the middle of a workout (has been for hours) when the junior agent shows up. The guy is almost crying by the time Steve gets him to leave. Half an hour later, it’s Coulson.

“Did you at least listen to why?” Coulson asks, smiling as Steve ignores him in favor of pummeling the sandbag.

“Sure.”

He’s learned how fast his knuckles will heal when he breaks them, which takes a lot of effort on its own, so when he feels it happen, he’s not worried. It hurts though, so he pauses and flexes, straightens out the finger so the healing bone will slot back into place. Doesn’t take long. If he left it for an hour, it’d be back to perfection. Had been a pretty handy trick back in the war. Not so much now.

He hears something scraping across the floor and looks back to see Coulson settling down in a chair with his cellphone.

“Are you just gonna sit there until I go with you?”

“Gives me time to catch up on _Super Nanny_. I’ve been too busy lately to watch any.”

Steve is almost sure he preferred it when Coulson was just in awe of him those first few days. He huffs out a breath and looks at the bag but he’s not so into tearing it apart with his fists. He thinks back to Tony, alone in the interrogation room, and hates himself a little.

“So he won’t talk?” Steve asks without looking back at the agent.

“Nothing but insults. You made quite the impression.” Coulson flicks on the sound from his cellphone. Steve hasn’t really gotten into modern television yet. He’s still kind of unnerved that it’s in color and how lifelike the action can be.

“And you’ve got no idea who he is?”

“Not even one. Which is strange because we keep track of talent like that.”

Steve purses his lips. He flexes his hand again - still hurts. “What do you want from me?”

“We’d like you to talk to him. Nothing too adventurous, just maybe see what you can find out.” Coulson makes it seem like it’d be easy but somehow, Steve’s pretty sure nothing is easy when a kid’s involved. “Maybe some clue we can use to find his parents and return him to them. Like a surname.”

“I’m not working for you,” Steve says because it needs to _be_ said but Coulson just smiles and nods the way his teachers used to when he told them he was going to join the army. “You owe me.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll compensate your time.”

It’s not what Steve meant and he’s pretty sure Coulson knows that, but he keeps remembering the way Tony looked at him when he left. The way he seemed scared under the bluster.

Damn it.

He goes to see the kid.

They’ve given Tony a locked room that at least has a bed in it and a bathroom attached. It’s some kind of beige color that’s less visually offensive than white but still painfully boring. When Steve gets there, Tony is sitting cross legged on the floor with pieces from some kind of electronics littered around him. He’s got part of it in his hands, using a small screw driver to remove smaller bits.

Tony looks up as the door opens. He’s surprised for a moment before he drags a mask of smugness and turns back to his project, whatever it is. “Came crawling back, huh?”

“They said you weren’t talking to them,” Steve mutters and then feels rather stupid when Tony just snorts and keeps tinkering.

“Yeah, well, maybe when they let me get some fresh air, I’ll be more genial.”

Steve spies a chair by the door and sinks into it. The room is pretty small. Kind of claustrophobic. Completely plain. “What did that used to be?”

“Pretty sure it was masquerading around as a game console but this sure isn’t an Atari.”

Steve has no idea what an Atari is, and very limited knowledge about games in general, outside of Baseball. This electronic game whatever is out of the scope of what the last two weeks have taught him about the modern world. It’s a weird comfort that Tony seems a little dismayed by the thing that is not an Atari, too.

“You think they might bring me a microwave?” Tony asks.

It takes Steve a second to remember what that means. “You’re hungry?”

“No, I mean. This doesn’t have everything I need in it. Microwave won’t either, but you know, more parts. Might be able to jury rig something.”

Steve looks at the parts of the game console. “…What exactly are you making?”

“No idea. I’ll let you in on it when I figure that out.” Tony grabs some wire and starts fiddling with it. “Soldering iron wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

“I’m pretty sure they won’t let you have that.”

“Their loss. Now no one gets to play with the ray gun.”

“…Ray gun.”

“Yeah, I mean, the theoretical ray gun that I am totally not building.”

Steve gives him a look but Tony just hunches his shoulders and concentrates on the pieces. Sighing a bit, Steve wonders how any of this is his life. “Okay. How about this? I’ll ask them about the microwave if you tell me your last name.”

Tony pauses. He rubs the edge of his thumb against the green piece in his hand, following a silver line across the top of it. Then he glances at Steve through the veil of his shaggy bangs. It’s like he’s deciding something serious, weighing out the options for and against, figuring out how far he can trust Steve. For his part, Steve just sits under the scrutiny and takes it.

“You promise?” the kid asks.

“I swear on my mother’s grave,” Steve replies.

“Well, at least you didn’t swear on Freedom, the Flag, or the American Way.” Tony shakes his head a little ruefully. “It’s Stark. Tony Stark.”

Steve remembers another man named Stark with dark eyes and dark hair and an annoyingly endearing personality. And now that he knows to look for it, he can see some of Howard in Tony. He wonders if this is a grandson, or a great grandson maybe.

“Oh,” Steve says, his throat getting a little tight on the word. The room suddenly feels a lot smaller. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my end of it.” Tony goes back to staring at his mess. “Your turn.”

“Right.”

Steve is embarrassingly glad to escape the room and Tony goddamn Stark. Or he would be if Coulson weren’t right out there waiting. Coulson takes one look at him and then leads Steve up to the roof. The elevator ride is blessedly quiet, even if that’s too small by half, and then it’s fresh air and the sky and okay, okay, he’s okay.

Steve remembers the briefings about shellshock back in the war, back when things made sense even when they didn’t, and he knows if he just hangs on, being overwhelmed and panicked will stop. Steve knows he’s a courageous man and he’d never run from anything, not even when his body screams for it, so he just needs to push through and keep his head until it’s over. He’s pretty sure the sergeant hadn’t had any of this future stuff in mind, but Steve forgives him because who the hell would.

If he just holds onto his sanity, keeps his composure, everything will level itself out. It’s only shameful if the people back home find out, and it’s not like Steve has any people back home to know. Besides, at least he could make himself move and isn’t shaking like a leaf. He remembers some of the guys that couldn’t handle it and he’s not that bad. He’s fine, he’s great.

“Stark,” Coulson muses, fiddling with his cellphone, and it jerks Steve out of his head in a second. “Tony Stark.”

His heart is still going a little fast. Steve swallows and mutters out, “That mean something to you?”

“Maybe. Depends on whether or not the lab matches his DNA as a familial relation to Howard Stark. I believe you knew him.” Coulson finishes tapping on the cellphone and then slides it into his pocket and Steve feels for the thousandth time unnerved by a phone you could carry around in your pocket.

“I did. Think you’ll find anything?”

“Stark did have a son. He disappeared and was thought to have been kidnapped or murdered. No sign of him since then.” Steve hates the thought of what Howard must have gone through. It twists him up hard inside, the very thought of his friend hurting over the loss of someone close to him. “The boy might be his grandson and might lead us back to Stark’s son, if he’s still alive. Matches the family intellect, anyway.”

“He wants a microwave,” Steve offers because it’s all he can make himself say. Coulson just nods like somehow he understands.

“I’ll have one brought to him. Good work, Captain Rogers.”

Steve makes himself leave the roof. He goes back home and smiles at the pretty nurse next door, getting in just as he is. She’s been sweet to him since he moved in a week ago and he thinks maybe when he ever stops being so messed up, he might take her to dinner some time. _If_ it stops, anyway.

He sinks down onto the couch among all the things he has managed to gather on his three outings outside the apartment walls. He has a radio that was made only a couple years after he went down and a phonograph with an automatic record changer, the kind he and Bucky had never been able to afford. It’s been harder to find records than the player, at least records of the right music and not the modern stuff just put down on vinyl. Found a couple old posters at the flea market and dozens of little odds and ends.

SHIELD had been very nice about setting him up with seventy years of back pay. Steve has no idea what to do with that ridiculous sum of money.

Maybe he’s spending a little too much time in the quiet. Steve goes to work out until he’s tried, which is kind of hard to get to anymore. It’s late in the night and then he goes back home and the phone is ringing.

Having refused a cellphone, Steve has a wall unit that is still strangely lacking a rotary wheel, but it feels less insane than something not connected by wire. The phone never rings unless it’s SHIELD trying to get in touch with him or harangue him about working for them, which is just as well.

He thinks about ignoring it. Then he feels bad and picks up. “Rogers.”

“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that explosion,” Nick Fury drawls without a hint of humor. “Because if you knew anything, I’m sure you’d have informed us.”

 _Explosion?_ “No, sir. Is anyone hurt?”

“No. But Mr. Fix-it Jr.’s gone MIA.”

Steve doesn’t get that reference and he is kind of sick of that, but something clicks and he asks, “Tony?”

“Blew up the door, who the hell knows _how_. I’ve got to hand it to the kid, if I weren’t so pissed about losing Stark’s get, I might be laughing. But as it is, I am very much _not amused_.”

He’ll worry about Fury being pissed later. Right now, he’s horrified because they don’t know where the kid is and centering on what Fury just called him and, “He’s Howard’s?”

“Ridiculously close coincidental genetic relation apparently,” Fury says, like that means something. “If he’s not Howard’s grandson, I’m the Queen of England and do I look like a tea drinker to you?”

He needs to find this kid.

\---

He needs to kill this kid.

For two days, Steve has been one step behind Tony. The other teams have been about as successful, which is not at all. Whoever Tony was before he turned up on SHEILD’s radar, he’s proving slippery as anything to track. Steve’s ear is sore from the communicator they stuck in it that he hasn’t removed it because he hasn’t slept and every time he hears something from it, he startles so bad that he nearly hits something. No one’s said anything about it, but the two agents assigned to him are giving him a wide berth.

Steve made sure they knew he wasn’t working for them, that this was just because a kid was involved, Howard’s grandson specifically, and that after this he was done, and they’d all nodded and handed him the communicator and weapons and something called gipiyes. The last of it he’d immediately given off to one of his agents, a red haired woman who smiled once and has been cool as death since. Steve likes her. She does her job and didn’t try to get him to sign anything or ask what he thinks of the future, and she’s been right with him the whole time. The other agent is a replacement for their first third member, who Steve had almost decked because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than two seconds at a time.

So, it has been two days and the kid is still gone. Steve’s spent most of his time checking the library, shelters, and centers for runaways or at risk kids. Night’s falling again and one of the other teams reports nothing, making Steve jump again. He finally rips the communicator out of his ear, frustrated enough that he nearly crushes the tiny thing, but at the last second he manages to just shove it into his pocket.

“Rogers?” the redhead says – R something, Russian sounding, Romav? God he needs to get better with the names of these people – and he waves a dismissive hand.

“Just. Tell me if they say something important.”

“Of course.”

Steve likes her. Maybe when this is over, he’ll buy her a beer. Do people even do that anymore? Is he allowed to just buy a dame a drink? Will she think he’s hitting on her? Ugh, this is definitely not the time.

They comb through another couple libraries when Red goes still, head tilted as she listens. “Stane International just reported a break in. The culprit is a boy matching Stark’s description.”

That’s all Steve needs. They get to Stane International’s New York office (which is way too big, just like every other building in the city) just as the police are shoving Tony into the back of a car because Red drives like a banshee. A tall man in a suit stands aside with another officer, giving a statement. He seems pretty genial for the victim of a break in, giving the three of them a curious glance as they arrive.

Red immediately steps in and starts talking to the cops while Steve hangs back and just revels in the knowledge that Tony is alive and unharmed and _he is going to kill that boy._ He doesn’t know what exactly Tony had been trying to do but when he finds out-

Steve stops himself. No. This isn’t his business. He just agreed to find the kid and return him to SHIELD so they can take care of him and that’s it. He doesn’t owe Tony more than that and he certainly doesn’t owe SHIELD. But as Steve continues to watch Tony sitting miserably in the cop car, eyes down and shoulders hunched up… He drags a hand down his face because he is in _so deep._

“-understand your position, Miss, boys will be boys. That’s why we just kicked him out the first time he broke in,” comes filtering in through the haze of Steve’s mind and he looks up to see that the suited man is laughing a bit with Red, who smiles indulgently. “As long as this doesn’t happen again, I don’t mind letting him off into your custody.”

 _First time?_ Steve gives the sulking boy another look, which is wasted because Tony is staring very intently at his lap and probably doesn’t even know Steve is there. That changes when Red signals Steve and he goes for the cop car. The moment he opens it, Tony’s staring at him like he hadn’t believed he’d ever see Steve again. It’s something almost endearing or pitiful, Steve’s not sure which. Tony gets out of the car, the picture of contrition for about a second before he bolts. He gets about a foot and then Steve’s got his arm in a firm grip that stops him dead with a flinch.

“Don’t even _think_ about it,” Steve edges out one word at a time between his clenched teeth. Tony stares at him with mutiny in his head but only jerks his arm once before giving in to the fact that Steve’s not going to let him go anytime soon.

Red finishes with the man in the suit and then comes over. She inclines her head to Tony. “Hello, Mr. Stark.”

“Hello, fascist government dog,” Tony replies blithely and Steve sees her lips quirk a bit on one side like she thinks he’s just being cute.

“That’s better than comrade, I guess,” she says and then turns to Steve. “Fury wants us back at headquarters. I think he wants to try and put the fear of something worse than God into the kid.”

“I’m not afraid of you guys.”

Steve ignores him. “Is he going to just toss him in another locked room?”

“Possibly.” Red shifts her weight from one foot to the other, almost like she’s bored instead of tired. “He’s pretty pissed.”

“Didn’t work the first time,” Steve grumbles, firming his grip on Tony’s arm.

“Does this count as police brutality? Because I think this counts as police brutality.”

“We have more secure facilities.” Red is smirking again but keeps her eyes on Steve’s face and he on hers.

“Not sure a windowless box ten levels underground is the right place for a kid,” Steve says.

“Twenty-seven,” she corrects.

“Oh that is _so_ much better, really, I should be _grateful_.”

Steve gives Tony a dirty look. The kid glares back mulishly but finally shuts up. Drawing in a slow breath that does nothing to calm him, Steve gives in to the fact that he’s about to thoroughly complicate things for himself.

“He’s coming with me.”

“What?” Tony echoes the look on Red’s face. Steve stares stonily back at both of them.

“Look, Howard Stark was a friend of mine,” Steve begins and he tries to ignore the way Tony’s face goes blank at the mention. “I’m not about to let you bury his family under _twenty-seven levels_ _of concrete_.”

“I don’t think you’re thinking clearly, Rogers,” Red says as her stance shifts again, firming, like she’s getting ready to pounce. “I think you should sleep on it.”

“I’ll sleep on it as soon as this idiot is in bed where he will _stay_ until morning like the good little boy I know he can be- _won’t you?_ ” Steve finishes, eyes narrow as he stares the kid down.

“Yeah. Totally. I’m the best kid, really,” Tony says but it sounds a little more hollow and overwhelmed than mouthy now.

“Good.”

“Rogers-”

“ _Good_.”

Red is very still a second or two longer and then she just sighs and rolls her eyes. “I’ll let Fury know. You might want to take your phone off the hook because he’s not going to like that.”

“He can yell at me in the morning,” Steve promises. Then he pauses and adds, “This does not mean I’m working for you.”

“I think we’re a little past that now,” she says and then drives them back to Steve’s place. Steve sits in the back with Tony and doesn’t let go of him the entire way. He’s not sure how much of a flight risk Tony really is at this point, but who knows how long Tony will actually listen to him, even if right now he’s acting pretty subdued.

It holds out until they get to the apartment and Steve feels a lot better once Red leaves them and he’s locked his door. Tony stands in the cluttered living room with his lips set in a thin line, looking from one thing to another with half veiled interest warring with disgust.

“It’s like a museum in here.”

Steve is way too tired to deal with this right now. He sinks down onto the couch and points at the bedroom. “In. Don’t you dare go out the window, I will hear you.”

“Super hearing, right, got it, any other super powers I should know about? Can your flatulence kill ten men, Grandpa?”

Tony shuts up when Steve just glares at him. He turns on his heel and marches himself into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Steve waits ten minutes but he doesn’t hear the window open. Then he lets himself relax into the cushions. He’s pretty sure he’ll wake up if a window or the door open, so he’s not too worried about missing it if Tony makes a break.

Steve has been a little scared to look into what happened to the people he knew after he went down in the ice. Coulson offered to look for him, but Steve told him not to. He’s not sure he wants to know. Even now, with a piece of Howard’s life in the next room, Steve is still unsure. He hopes the others had a happier time of things than Howard apparently did.

That’s the last thing to cross his mind before Steve is out like a light.

\---

Steve wakes up to loud, obnoxious chewing. He opens his eyes and stares at Tony sitting not two feet away, cross legged on the floor with a bowl in his hands. Tony chews, swallows, and then says with mild disgust, "You have crap taste in cereal."


	2. Fly On The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am kind of uh blown away by the response on this. Thanks guys :)

Steve ignores Tony for the half hour it takes him to wake up, but the kid doesn’t seem to need his focused attention at all times. As Steve stumbles like a zombie through showering, shaving, and getting something resembling sustenance in his belly, Tony spends his time poking at this or that around the apartment, offering a scathing review of Steve’s collection that Steve doesn’t bother taking personally. He’s starting to realize that most of what comes out of Tony’s mouth is just babble even Tony doesn’t expect anyone to really listen to.

He hooks the phone back up at eight. Fury calls at one after. Steve listens for about two seconds before he calmly unhooks the phone again. He finds Tony staring at him after, the same weighing stare from before, but thankfully Tony hasn’t taken anything apart this time. Yet.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” Tony asks, lips twisting into a lopsided frown.

“I don’t work for them. They can get as mad as they want.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think this is going to turn out the way you want it to.”

“Usually doesn’t,” Steve admits, giving the disconnected phone another glance. He goes to the couch and sits down with a glass of water. Steve’s gotten into a habit of running in the mornings but while it’s nice that Tony hasn’t skipped out overnight, he’s not sure how much he trusts the kid to stay longer if given the chance to escape.

Steve glances over to watch Tony poking through his records. The kid has an awkward kind of lankiness to him, growing up faster than he’s filling out. He’s less clumsy than the kids Steve knew before, much less than Steve himself was, but the fugitive way he keeps looking at things, the way he’s guarding his secrets so tight to his chest, it screams things Steve is uneasy not to know. He’s not sure just how to talk to the kid to figure them out though, because Tony isn’t like any kid he’s known before. Not like any of the adults either (except maybe Howard and even then, the resemblance is pale. Howard hadn’t had the same kind of awkward intensity Tony does.)

“Are you some kind of luddite or something?” Tony bursts out suddenly, eyeing Steve from the side of the phonograph.

“What?”

“Nothing outside the fixtures is younger than thirty years. You don’t even have a _television_.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t _need_ a television. What’s wrong with just reading a book?”

“You’re so _boring_ ,” Tony grumbles, throwing his hands in the air like not owning a television is absolutely ridiculous (Steve has certain opinions about that, too.) “How am I supposed to figure any of this out if I can’t-”

Tony stops and jerks his head around. He stares at Steve like he’s said more than he meant and Steve narrows his eyes.

“Figure what out?” he asks, gently as he can, but Tony’s still watching him with the gaze of a stray dog trying to figure out if it should bite. Steve gives him a few seconds and then he just sighs. “Okay, look. I’m not here to hurt you. If anything, I want to help you. So how about this? I’ll make sure SHIELD stays off your back and I’ll try to get you whatever you need, but in turn, you let me in on what’s going on. There has to be a reason you’re alone, Tony. Where are your parents?”

Tony’s jaw tightens, a muscle in his cheek twitching. He looks away quickly and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t need you,” he says, throwing it out like a gauntlet.

Steve leans back against the couch a bit. “Maybe not. But I think it’d be easier with my help.”

“You’re really going for the whole Cap shtick aren’t you?”

“Is it working?”

Tony purses his lips a bit and then shrugs. “Maybe.”

Maybe is better than no. Steve gets up and straightens his shirt. Everything’s made of different material now and doesn’t hang quite the right way, isn’t cut quite the same. He doesn’t like it. Actually, he almost misses wearing a uniform day in and day out. Now he’s got to make choices about things again and all the possibilities are wrong.

“Get your shoes on,” he tells Tony as he goes to do so himself. “We’re getting a television.”

“What, now?” Tony stays where he is for another minute before he goes into the bedroom and grabs his shoes. “…What about a computer?”

“How old are you?” Steve shoots back casually and tries to hide the fact that he has no idea where to even get a computer or a television for that matter.

Tony pokes his head out the door and gives him a nasty look. “Really? That’s how you’re playing it? Are you serious right now?”

“Seems fair to me. You want a computer, right?”

Narrowing his eyes, Tony regards Steve as he straightens up and waits by the door. It’s like Tony’s testing him, trying to figure him out, and not sure what he’s actually finding. “What day is it?”

Steve checks his watch. It’s about the only modern thing he owns on purpose, mostly because he needed one and can see the use in having a display for the date right at hand. Coulson had set it for him. “May tenth.”

“Huh. Lost a day, somewhere. I’m almost fourteen,” Tony says as he heads to meet him at the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Almost fourteen. Younger than Steve thought. As they head down the stairs, Steve watches the way Tony’s shoulders stay hunched, waiting for some kind of judgment maybe. Steve isn’t sure there’s been a moment Tony’s relaxed since he first saw the kid. There’s something watchful and cautious in Tony. Something more than just being separated from his folks. Steve doesn’t blame him for not trusting, but he wishes there was something more he could do.

When Steve was fourteen, his father had been dead since before he was born and his mother was working as many shifts as she could, when she wasn’t nursing him through endless illnesses. It would have been pretty lonely without Bucky around, but he’d known his mother would be there if he needed her. Tony, though. Tony didn’t seem to have that safety net. He looked so very small going down the stairs even though he was tall for his age.

Ahead, Tony stops at the base of the stairs. Steve starts to ask what’s wrong when he sees Red leaning against a car at the front of the building. She’s dressed casually, well fitted jeans and a nice shirt that brings out her eyes, a thin jacket over it and her long hair hanging loose over her shoulders and back.

“Good morning, Rogers,” she greets, smiling with amusement. “No problems this morning?”

“I don’t work for you,” Steve replies. It’s becoming a reflex at this point.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Red turns to Tony, who’s holding the stair rail in one white knuckled hand. “How’d you sleep, Stark?”

“Why are you so hot?” the kid blurts without an ounce of embarrassment while Steve covers his face with one hand to hide his cringing. “No, really, so flattered you’d dress up for me but if anyone asks, I’m saving myself for marriage.”

Red shakes her head a bit. “Do either of you ever answer the question you’re actually asked?”

“Depends on if it’s an interesting question.” Tony lets go of the rail and steps out onto the pavement but doesn’t go further, giving Red’s car a glance over. He doesn’t seem particularly impressed. “So what do you want, jackboot?”

“My name is Natasha.”

“Your _name_ is Agent Bu-”

That’s about enough for now. Steve manages to cuff a hand over Tony’s mouth to cut him off. The kid glares at him mutinously but Steve ignores it. “Is there something you wanted?”

There’s a barely there, coy twist to Natasha’s lips. She pushes off from the car and starts towards the driver’s side. “We can talk in the car. I’ll give you a lift to wherever you’re going.”

Tony ducks from under Steve’s hand and heads for the car even as he grumbles about unfair censorship and that leaves Steve standing awkwardly near the stairs. Natasha doesn’t even look to see if he’s coming, slipping into the car, but Tony pauses after he opens the door. He looks back at Steve, suddenly wary.

“Come on, Grandpa, let’s get a move on already. If you’re not here, they might kidnap me and use my perfect genetics to create an army of intensely handsome geniuses to shame the world into surrendering and becoming my worshipers.”

“You didn’t even have to work for that, did you?” Steve hears from inside the car.

“It’s a foregone conclusion,” Tony shoots back. “What else would you want me for? A personal sex slave? I think I might be too much for you, sweetheart.”

Steve doesn’t want to hear the answer to that. He quickly gets to the car and gets inside, tugging the door shut a little too hard. It slams, which makes Tony jump a bit as he gets in after, but Steve ignores that. “Do you know where can we get a television?”

“And a computer,” Tony pipes up. “You said if I answered I could get a computer. Don’t you dare go back on your word. Captain America would never-”

“Yes, fine. Natasha? Er, Agent Ro- uh, I... honestly don't remember your name.”

She’s grinning as she pulls out onto the street and starts off.

“Romanov, but Natasha is fine. Director Fury would like me to request you keep your phone hooked up,” Natasha says as she pulls swiftly in front of some guy in a truck trying to cut her off and takes ten years from Steve’s life. “And please don’t hang up on him.”

“In those words?”

“No, not really.”

Tony snorts, leaning up between the front seats. “Bet I know better swears than him.”

“I doubt that.” But Natasha just smirks a bit more and makes a turn down another of the dizzyingly busy streets. There’s so much more traffic now, more people, all crammed into the same amount of space. Steve feels a little sick, so he keeps his gaze on the sky as much as he can. If the buildings weren’t so damn tall, it might have helped more. “He’d also like to talk to Tony more about how he got into our system.”

Tony sits back abruptly. “Trade secrets. I’d have to kill you if I told you.”

“I’m so scared.”

Tony grins and it’s only a little bit brittle. Steve still doesn’t like seeing that and getting reminded of how high strung the kid is.

“Let Fury know I’m stepping in as his de facto guardian until his parents have been located,” Steve says, dredging up every ounce of authority he’d once unquestionably had. It’s enough that Natasha gives him a glance from the corner of her eye, but doesn’t dispute it.

“I don’t need a guardian,” Tony complains. “I’d been doing just fine before you came around.”

“I’ll give him the memo,” Natasha promises.

\---

They go to a place called Best Buy. Steve is tempted to call it the House of Lies.

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ” he hisses at Natasha when the first computer they look at costs over _two hundred dollars_.

She gives him a mild look as Tony examines the “laptop” from all sides, intensely focused on figuring out if this is the right one as the sales person cheerfully answers his rapid fire questions. “I know you were briefed on inflation.”

“Inflation, not _highway robbery._ ”

“Trust me, Steve. I’m not going to let them rip you off. It’s not as bad as you think and I know you can afford it just fine.”

Steve looks back at the machine Tony has now left in favor of another display that is a good thirty dollars less but still expensive enough that it makes the pit of Steve’s stomach twist. He’d rarely ever spent that much money in a month, much less on a single purchase. He’s not even sure what one does with a laptop or what the questions Tony keeps asking even mean (“Wait, how much ram? Huh. Okay. And the processor speed? Hah, sure, if you say so, Major Tom.”) but after a bit, Natasha tugs Steve’s sleeve so they can go look at the televisions. There aren’t many on display, but Steve stares at the size and the clarity of picture – a hummingbird in flight slowed down so he can watch the flicker of every tiny feather – and suddenly the exorbitant amount of money in his bank account doesn’t seem completely insane (just mostly.)

The thing is, he _was_ briefed on inflation, back when he’d been out of the ice and awake for three days and was going stir crazy in SHIELD HQ so he’d demanded to be let out to find an apartment. He has a vague idea of the exchange rate, but picking things up at a flea market and getting groceries didn’t quite prepare him for just how much things could cost. He wonders if penny candies cost a dollar these days.

Steve makes Natasha pick out the television, handing over his wallet, and escapes to stand in front of the store by a toy horse with paint scraped off most of it to reveal dull plastic underneath. A peeling metal box beside it proclaims fifty cents per ride and Steve feels irrationally angry about it. He closes his eyes tight and makes himself count to ten, like his mother had taught him when he was young.

“Is he going to blow up? Because he looks like he’s going to blow up right there, brains and everything all over the wall.”

Opening his eyes, Steve looks back to see Natasha and Tony standing with a shopping cart and two huge boxes balanced precariously in it with a couple plastic bags. Natasha wordlessly hands back his wallet, a thoughtful look on her face, and he stuffs it into his pocket. He kind of hopes he won’t find the receipt, even though he’ll need it later to balance the books, but he’s pretty sure he’s just spent a couple months’ rent in one day. His mother would have whipped him.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks Tony and hopes he doesn’t sound desperate for a negative. Tony just blinks at him.

“World peace? Nah, that’d put me out of a job,” the kid says after a few beats, turning to the cart.

Natasha clicks her tongue at him and starts pushing the cart into the parking lot. “You’re a little young for a job, Stark.”

“Age is in the eye of the beholder, but sure, future job then. I mean, I know the old man’s gonna-”

Tony stops dead. His face is expressionless but his hands twitch at his sides, curling into tight fists and releasing a few times. The calculating part of Steve’s mind tells him this means whatever happened with his parents, whatever the reason he’s on the fly, happened recently and the trauma is still fresh and maybe if he tried now, he could get Tony to talk about it. The rest of him is moving before that thought ends with absolutely no intention of confronting the kid until they’re well behind closed doors.

Steve presses his hand to the middle of Tony’s back, urging him gently forward. Tony resists it for about half a second and then he lets himself be led, muttering out, “Whatever, let’s just go back to Casa del Old Man already.”

Natasha catches his eye as Tony ducks into the car and Steve’s resolve grows stronger. He’s going to look after Tony. Keep him safe, try to figure out what happened to him. He owes it to Howard and he owes it to Tony himself. Had Steve not gotten himself frozen for decades, he might have been around to keep whatever happened from happening.

He wonders if Howard is dead. The fact that Tony wasn’t returned to him the moment they figured out who he was and couldn’t find any parents argues for. Steve finishes getting the boxes into the trunk, slips into the car, and tries not to think about it.

The ride back to the apartment is quiet, filled with unasked questions. For her part, Natasha doesn’t seem to mind the two of them getting lost in their own heads. She just parks the car and helps Steve get everything out of the back. There’s two flights of stairs to get up but Steve waves off her offer to carry something up. She allows him to and then gives him a card with her number on it just in case he needs something.

Steve sends Tony up with the plastic bags and the key, then he manhandles the two boxes into his arms and heads on after him. The load is awkward, not near heavy enough to wind him but the boxes are two different sizes and the top one keeps trying to slide one way or the other over the slick coating on the cardboard. He manages to get there without dropping either and counts it as a victory.

The moment they’re inside, Tony has Steve set the boxes down in the bedroom and then starts tearing into them. The rest of the apartment is too cluttered to really have room for the mess but Steve just steps aside and lets Tony do whatever it is he needs to do. He goes into the kitchen and sets about making lunch.

When he’d first gotten the treatment, first started becoming Captain America, it had taken nearly a week before they figured out just how many calories his new and improved metabolism could burn through. He’d go into dizzy spells if he didn’t eat every couple hours, so half his backpack had been stuffed with rations on every mission. Now he’s got a handle on what his body needs, even though the food is all different and he keeps having to relearn what’s actually in everything. He eats a lot of sandwiches, nice and simple and easy to make a half dozen of at a time.

Steve checks on Tony after he’s cleared through most of the sandwiches but Tony’s got the computer in his lap, fingers flying over the keys as words running speedily up the screen. The television is plugged in next to him, showing some kind of news channel with a story about unrest in the Middle East.

After Tony ignores his own name for the third time, Steve just leaves a plate with two sandwiches on the floor next to him and goes to the couch to read. It’s strange how he doesn’t feel lonely, not with the little sounds and swearing coming from the bedroom. Steve puts on a record and just tries to relax.

He wakes up suddenly without realizing he’d fallen asleep. The apartment is mostly dark except for a shaft of light from the half closed bedroom door. Steve gets up and stretches, his back complaining from the way he’d slumped as he slept. There’s still a touch of sunlight coming in from the windows but not much and it’s tinged red and cooler purple from dusk. Steve flips on a lamp and peeks into the bedroom.

Tony’s almost exactly where he’d left him except that the television has some brightly colored animated picture on. The plate is empty and Steve feels a little better about that. He takes it and Tony doesn’t even flinch, so Steve shakes his head a bit and goes to rinse the plate.

As he reaches the door, Tony suddenly speaks up. “Are you really him?”

Steve glances back, not sure what exactly that means. But the intense way Tony’s staring at him, this is important.

“Captain America,” Tony clarifies as his hands tighten on the edges of the laptop and he demands again, “are you really him?”

“Yeah.” It sounds kind of empty coming from him like this in a shirt that doesn’t fit right, in an apartment that doesn’t sound right, in a time that doesn’t feel right.

“He’s dead.”

“Not as such.” Steve steps back over and sits on the edge of the bed, hoping he’s not crowding Tony too much being there (as if the room wasn’t his to begin with.) “They said-”

“No, you don’t get it!” Tony shoves the computer away and gets up, starting to pace in front of the bed. “All my life- _all my life_ , all I’ve ever heard was “Steve this” and “Steve that” and how good a man he was and how no one ever, not one person was as good a man. _Not one_. And do you know how much money the old man sank into looking for him? Do you have any idea how many times he was gone for _weeks_ out there, combing through ice and wreckage and any sign of that plane Captain freaking America put down?”

Steve doesn’t. There is a hollow, painful kind of surprise in his gut that churns not unlike guilt.

Throwing his hands up, Tony rounds on him with a glare. “And then you sit there, you- You sit there telling me- what, that you’ve been hiding all this time? Or- or are you like some kind of a clone or something? I read about cloning! I know it’s an actual thing!”

Steve does not know about cloning. Or how to handle worked up teenagers, apparently.

“Or maybe a robot? I mean, you can do some pretty amazing things with robotics these days and-” Tony cuts himself off with a noise of frustration and drags his fingers back through his floppy hair. “He’s _dead_. He’s been dead for _decades_. And if he’s not- If you’re- then the old man- The old man was…”

Steve gets up of the bed. He reaches for Tony and the kid flinches like he thinks Steve’s going to take a swing at him, but Steve just grabs him up in his arms and holds him tight against his body. Tony is stiff and small and _shaking_. And then all at once, Tony just slumps into him, a negligible weight Steve has no problem supporting. He feels the kid curl his hands in Steve’s shirt, holding on tight, and just lets them stand that way for a while.

If he hears something that sounds suspiciously like a sob, he makes no mention of it.

“You’re an asshole,” Tony mutters against his shirt several minutes later, his voice muffled and snotty.

“Yeah,” Steve says again because it’s true.

\---

Steve makes pancakes for dinner. Tony eats a few and then complains about the neighbor's wireless internet connection being too slow.


	3. Baptism by Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one eaked out in like five hundred word intervals for some reason...

Natasha comes back the next day bearing gifts. She hands off a bag of cheeseburgers to Tony and a thick folder to Steve.

“Coulson thought you might be ready for this. I disagree, but it’s not my call,” she says cryptically and turns to help Tony portion the burgers out, or at least save one for herself before the kid inhales them all. Steve watches them a moment as his stomach twists with lazy hunger that is easy to ignore, then looks down at the folder. He has an idea of what it is but still feels his entire body seize up when the first sheet has a black and white picture of Peggy Carter paper clipped onto it. She looks older than he remembers, her fine features still vibrant and beautiful with slim lines of age. Late thirties, early forties maybe. She looks happy, her lips pulled into that smug little half smile. Peggie, at least, seems to have gotten on fine without him.

He swallows thickly and closes the folder again, setting it aside in the kitchen. Maybe later.

The only place to eat in Steve’s apartment (other than the floor) is an awkward bar that divides the kitchen from the living space. He’s picked up two mismatched wooden stools for it and finds Tony and Natasha making good use of them. They stare at him over their burgers and Steve forces a smile as he takes his own.

“At least the future food is good, right?” he says, biting into it. (And it is, as long as no one mentions the abomination that bananas and other things have become.) Steve leans against the counter and the space between him and them makes him feel a little less hemmed in by their curious stares.

“What, food not great in the forties?” Natasha asks, her eyes heavy lidded and amused.

“Well. We did pretty much boil everything.”

Tony makes a face. “You savages.”

Natasha snorts and shakes her head a little. “I’m heading out for a mission in a few days, Rogers. A friend of mine is going to be checking in on you, since Coulson’s got his hands full at some top secret facility I’m not supposed to know about.”

“Are you seriously sending a babysitter while you’re out at Macy’s?” Tony asks around half a mouthful of burger. He grins at Steve, who is kind of pissed about this himself.

“I don’t need anyone to check in on me, Romanov,” he says because it’s true and by god, he will someday make these people believe it. “I’m a grown man.”

“Uh-huh.” Natasha primly blots her mouth with a napkin. “His name is Clint. He’ll come by here and there. Feel free to drop him out the window if he talks too much. It’s only two stories. He’ll bounce.”

Steve sighs a little and stuffs the rest of the burger in his mouth.

Natasha heads out after they’ve eaten, but pauses at the door only to pull a slim box from inside her jacket and hand it over to Tony. She says something about wifey and Sharon next door that goes over Steve’s head but Tony seems pretty excited about it, enough that he actually says thank you as he shuts the door after her. Steve isn’t surprised that the kid ducks back into the bedroom after. And… Well, that leaves Steve with nothing to do. He glances around his apartment, which suddenly seems a lot more lonely now that he knows Tony is holed up on his own instead of just… Hanging around. Before Tony, Steve would just go to the gym and forget life for a few (many) hours. Now, he doesn’t want to take the chance of something going wrong while he’s out. He may have been younger than Tony when he was out and about on his own as a kid, but the world seemed to be a lot more treacherous these days with dangers he hasn’t even heard of yet.

Steve glances to the kitchen where the folder sits on his counter like an open wound. He wants to ignore it. And then he picks it up because of how much he doesn’t want to. Steve is a courageous man. He won’t run. He won’t give in. He will face this like he has faced everything his entire life.

He opens it and faces Peggie. She’s still alive but bedridden now. A daughter, retired, cares for her. From what little he can get from the half blacked out pages of her military and SHIELD records, she’s lived a brilliantly exciting life, just as she would want to do.

It makes him less heartsick as he goes through the others. Dead by cancer, gunshot, suicide, liver failure, unconfirmed causes… The entire file is one nail after another, the same word over and over. Some of the guys didn’t last much longer than the end of the war. Some of them crashed and burned years later. A pale few lived to ripe ages with kids to outlive them. There’s even a short history of Bucky’s sisters, like SHIELD somehow knew just how important those girls were to him. They’re all gone but there are kids and grandkids, if he ever wants to meet them.

Howard Stark made it 1993, longer than anyone but Peggie and Morita, who’d died in 2003. And then he got his wife and fool self killed driving like a crazy person. It makes Steve wish he could smack some sense into the man post-mortem. The picture that page has clipped to it is from several years before the accident. Howard looks tired and stern, the flirty genius Steve had known burned completely out of him. Maria is pretty, just Howard’s type, and even though Howard looks completely uninterested in whoever is taking the photograph, Maria smiles Hollywood bright and waves a delicate hand. In the background, Steve can barely make out the blurry form of a young boy walking away, back into the house they lived in.

The company Howard had built up from the ground had been unceremoniously given reign to an associate and family friend after his son disappeared and Howard had put everything into searching for the boy. The last years of his life were spent this way. There aren’t any pictures of Anthony Edward Stark or even much information on him besides being a footnote in Howard’s life, a tragic end.

Steve looks at the closed bedroom door. Maybe if he’s patient, Tony might shed some light on the mystery.

He slides the file into one messy bookshelf and tries to lose himself in some light reading. He fails miserably.

\----

Steve is cold, cold, cold, all around him, inside him. It sinks into every bone, every cell.

He’d thought he’d be unconscious at this point but he’d only been out seconds. He’s awake now and the water’s filled up every crevice in the sinking plane and he is drowning but the burning need for air has passed and he’s just cold down to his soul.

Cold and empty.

He can feel his body trying to heal as the lack of oxygen sets into his brain. He can feel his heart stubbornly beating, slower each time. The plane stops sinking, settling, and he thinks maybe he could try to escape it if he wanted to. Maybe he could summon that last bit of strength.

And then he doesn’t.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the way the world fades from his senses until he can’t even feel the cold anymore.

_End of the line_ , he thinks to Bucky’s memory. He’ll freeze up solid just like Bucky’s body that they never found no matter how many times Steve convinced the others to let him search-

Steve’s eyes snap open and there is someone hovering above him and he moves without thinking. He doesn’t quite register the grunt of pain as he pins them, nor the surroundings that should be familiar. Steve’s got a body on the floor next to the couch, one thin arm curled painfully against the back, wrist twisted to let pain keep them immobilized as much as his hands do. The body is small and it takes him about as long to register that as it does to figure out just where he is.

The body is crying and apologizing.

The body is Tony’s.

Steve lets go like he’s been burned. He stumbles back and knocks into the side of the phonograph, sending a couple records scattering, and then he’s on the floor because his knees go out from under him. His heart is hammering too fast in his chest and he can’t figure out what to say, even as he watches Tony drag himself onto his knees. Tony’s curled on himself, one hand gripping his shoulder tight like it hurts- of course it _hurts_.

“Tony,” Steve wheezes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay, kid?”

Tony curls a little tighter and then forces himself to get up unsteadily to his feet. He’s cradling his arm to his chest like it’s broken, oh god, is it broken-

“Fine,” Tony bites out without looking at him. He keeps his distance and Steve doesn’t dare move as Tony scrubs at his face with his good hand and lets the other straighten slowly, like he’s testing it. Like he’s not sure he can. Steve feels sick to his stomach.

“I’m so sorry. I just- I’m sorry.”

Tony shrugs. “Yeah. Well.”

He’s shaking it off quickly, doesn’t even quite look upset so much as neutral, and that is somehow even _worse_. Steve’s nausea wins out. He scrambles to the bathroom and heaves. Tony doesn’t follow and Steve takes long, guilty minutes to get hold of himself again.

He still feels cold but the sick tightness in his guts is red hot with guilt. What the hell was he thinking, bringing Tony home with him? Like he has any idea how to take care of a kid- any idea how to keep from reacting the way he does because the last time he woke up like that, the last time was a Hydra assassin about to cut his throat right in the middle of camp, surrounded by those Steve trusted most. The assassin hadn’t meant to get out alive; he’d just wanted to take Steve out with him, and Steve has been a special kind of messed up since then. It’s not even the only kind of messed up he is.

_God_.

He’ll be lucky if Tony wants to be anywhere near him ever again. The fact that he put hands on the kid makes him sick all over again but there’s nothing left in his stomach to heave except acid. He wants to cry but men his age don’t, especially not for his own sake, and he’s survived worse than hurting some poor kid who didn’t in any way deserve it, but it right now it feels like the worst thing he’s ever done.

There’s a quiet knock on the door. Steve wipes his mouth and hesitantly gives the okay and Tony steps inside. He’s got a hand towel in his hands, damp enough that water’s dripping over his fingers. The kid stares at him a second or two and then steps closer. He lays the towel over the back of Steve’s neck. It’s refreshingly cold against his skin and despite his horror over the whole event, at the cold still in his bones from the dream and the way Tony had looked under him, somehow it takes the edge off the nausea.

“Thanks,” he murmurs hoarsely.

Tony just shrugs carelessly, eyes veiled in long, dark lashes. Makes him look like Howard. Makes him look _nothing_ like him. Howard was never this soft around the edges. “Yeah, so, just saying but I’ll wake you up at a distance from now on.”

Steve winces and starts into an apology but Tony just waves a hand at him, instantly silencing what words he’d managed to pull together. Tony’s lips twist a bit, unhappy but not angry.

“Look,” he says blandly. “Don’t get all kicked puppy on me. I am _not_ going to be the guy that got Captain America feeling guilty-”

“This was not your fault!” Steve rails up immediately but Tony just rolls his eyes like it doesn’t matter.

“Hey, whatever. It’s cool. I get it. You didn’t mean to. You’ll do better next time. I get it.” Tony looks at him dead on, strangely intense as he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. “Are we done now?”

Steve is not done, but he can tell pretty quick how little Tony wants to talk about this and he doubts he’d get much more than Tony disappearing in the bedroom for his trouble. He doesn’t know what to think of Tony’s easy acceptance, either. Grateful is definitely not happening, but he’s also flayed open from the dream, flashback, whatever it had been. If Tony doesn’t want to talk right now, he’ll take that out. He doesn’t really want to, either.

“Okay. Okay, we’re done.”

“Good. Because there’s some guy standing outside the front door and I just checked before I came in here and he’s still there.”

Steve cringes. He gets up from the floor, stumbling a bit because of the way his legs aren’t quite half asleep but well on the way there, and flushes away his mess. Tony slumps back to the apartment proper as Steve hurriedly cleans himself up. He hopes he doesn’t look like he just lost his guts.

The guy at the door doesn’t seem to think the time it took to answer is weird. He’s shorter than Steve but there’s a sturdiness to him under his hooded sweater and jeans. Short hair in a simple cut, sharp eyes and a face with only a few wrinkles here and there to belay age. Steve thinks they’re probably around the same age or the guy’s a little older.

“Cap,” the guy greets, smiling. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clint.”

“The babysitter?” Tony asks, peeking around Steve’s arm.

“The babysitter,” Clint confirms cheerfully. He reaches down and picks up a couple sacks sitting near his feet and invites him in with a smoothness that has Steve instinctively bowing out of the way for him. He doesn’t even realize it until Clint’s commenting on his collection. Steve sighs and just resigns himself to the visit, but if he plays his cards right, maybe he can get Natasha’s friend to leave quickly.

“Did you bring me a toy?” Tony asks sarcastically, even as he starts rooting through Clint’s bags.

“Good boys don’t blow up government offices,” Clint replies, still smiling a little.

“ _Great_ ones make use of their limited resources.” Tony draws out a small, rectangular thing and looks about as perplexed by it as Steve is by it. He flips open a lid, furrowing his brows a bit, then looks up at Clint. “Is this a _portable_ game system?”

“Yup. It’s not the fancy version, but-”

“I need a screwdriver.”

Clint blinks at him and Steve finally steps in. “Maybe you should use it for it’s intended purpose instead of taking it apart.”

Tony gives him a baleful look. “Just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean you have to treat me like one. I want to know how it works. I’m not going to break it. I mean, the laptop still works, doesn’t it?”

“You _did_ make a bomb out of a microwave somehow,” Steve reminds him and Tony rolls his eyes with exaggerated annoyance.

“It’s a little unfair you guys won’t let that go.”

Clint raises his hand and somehow that manages to get both Steve and Tony’s attention. “I’d like to make it a rule that you are not allowed to take the DS apart. Those aren’t exactly cheap and I really don’t want to replace it a month after I bought it.”

“Cheapskate,” Tony mutters. “It’s people like you that get in the way of scientific progress.”

“I’ll consider my new role of obstruction to be a compliment.”

Other than the “DS”, Clint’s brought a couple of very colorful boardgames (Steve is momentarily baffled by the _Monopoly_ box which looks nothing like the copy Bucky’s parents owned,) a pack of cards, and a book that proudly proclaimed itself  _Sudoku_ in big block lettering.

“Natasha told me you both were dreary as hell and needed to learn how to have a little fun,” Clint explains when Steve gives him a confused look. He grins at the resentment that brings, utterly amused by everything, and then badgers Steve and Tony into a game of something called Settlers of Catan. They play on the floor and Tony complains about not having a table and then proceeds to slaughter both Steve and Clint.

They play _Monopoly_ next and Tony slaughters them again with gleeful enthusiasm, but Steve wins their one short try at _Mousetrap_. _Scrabble_ gets abandoned halfway through because Tony and Clint just keep trying to play the dirtiest words they can manage and then absolutely lose it when Steve calmly adds “er” to a “peck” played earlier. It wasn’t really as funny as they made it out to be.

The less said about _Cards Against Humanity_ the better (discontinued mostly because neither Steve nor Tony got most the references but also because Clint nearly laughed himself to death.)

It’s only when Tony starts to nod off during a round of poker that Steve glances at his watch and realizes it’s well into the early hours. He shuffles Tony off to bed, ignoring the kid’s grumbling about not being tired, and then sets to helping Clint gather everything back up.

“You know,” Clint says absently, sliding an unused tin of dominoes into the bottom of the bag. “You’re different than I imagined.”

Steve, who has the sour notion he’ll have to get used to being told that, just mutters out “Oh?” as he finishes gathering and shuffling the playing cards. The backs are some stylized thing in gold triangles and the face cards are medievally dressed lords and ladies.

“Yeah. I mean, I never read the comics or anything, but I saw the sixties’ flick, the one with Paul Newman? And everyone always says it’s pretty dead on, except for Peggie Carter of course. Painted her up as a USO girl.”

There is a picture about him that gets Peggie all wrong. Steve blinks a few times. That… He’s just- he’s tired. He’s suddenly really, really tired.

“But what I mean is, the way the movie goes, I don’t know. I just figured you’d be more stars and stripes than sad grandpa who cusses up a storm over a game of Monopoly.”

Steve snorts and adamantly tells himself that no matter what Natasha said, he is not going to drop Clint out a window.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Steve says, “but the pictures ain’t real.”

“At least now I don’t have to worry about Godzilla.” At Steve’s blank look, Clint grins widely. “Oh, now I know what we’re doing tomorrow.”

“You’re coming back tomorrow?”

“I take this babysitting gig very seriously. Which reminds me. I need to shoot Nat an update.”

Steve shakes his head a bit and Clint gathers up his bags. As he gets to the door, Steve mutters, “Hey, uh. Thanks. For today. I think it cheered the kid up a lot.”

Clint raises a brow and then looks a little amused. “Well, maybe tomorrow we’ll get you cheered up too, Cap.”

He heads out before Steve can respond and the apartment is quiet and still without him, but for once, Steve doesn’t feel discomforted. He just turns off the lights and slumps down on the couch.

He doesn’t dream.

\----

Clint shows up around noon with a six pack of soda Steve has a double take towards. Of all the things to stick around, Coca-Cola hadn’t been one he’d thought of. There’s a strange amusement to the familiarity, but when he opens a can to try it, Steve twitches at the taste. It isn’t quite what he remembers (what he had had only a year ago, relatively, when some nice lady back home had sent some for the unit) but it isn’t bad. A little sweeter, a little more carbonation.

It had been Bucky that liked soda. Steve had trouble with the carbonation bothering his insides and he’d preferred less sugary drinks anyway, even as a child. He wonders what Bucky would think of this.

Steve turns forcefully from those thoughts and instead helps Clint set up the first game while Tony extracts himself from his computer coma to join them (Steve wonders if he should be worried about the way Tony completely forgets the outside world while working on the thing. He doesn’t even know what Tony is doing so intensely).

Clint’s stacking tiles in front of him and setting two separate ones down in play when Tony leaves the bedroom to join them. He gives the game pieces a curious look, examining one of the player tiles, when Clint jerks next to him.

“Whoa, kid, what’d you do to your hand?” he asks, wide eyed at the impressive bruising that’s come in overnight. There isn’t a damning hand shape around Tony’s wrist, but it’s like a shameful brand to Steve now that he sees it. He hadn’t realized he’d held that hard. Tony must have been sore all day yesterday by the looks of it, but the kid hadn’t complained at all.

Tony glances at it and shrugs his shoulders. “Tripped over one of Cap’s stupid baseballs.”

It comes out smooth and natural, not a beat lost, and Clint believes it, nodding with an amused snort. Steve feels his insides twist tight and painful. And he could let this lie, but no, no he can’t, because Tony is lying and doing it to cover him.

“No, you didn’t,” Steve murmurs quietly and dark eyes jerk up to glare through messy brown fringe.

“Okay,” Tony says, waving his good hand dismissively. “So maybe it was just my own feet. I’m clumsy like that.”

Tony is the least clumsy person Steve knows and hearing that just makes the sick unease in Steve’s stomach even worse. Clint’s not smiling anymore. He’s looking between them now, a picture slotting into place and one he doesn’t like at all.

“I did that.” Steve keeps his voice steady, steadier than he feels, and Tony’s openly glaring at him now.

“Steve-”

“I grabbed him. Had a flashback and got startled after it. Tony was there.”

“ _Stop it_ -”

“I didn’t recognize him. I put him to the ground.”

Tony jerks his head, pointedly looking away. He cradles his bruised wrist in his lap like it suddenly hurts him more. Steve watches him steadily. He wishes he understood what Tony thought he was doing, lying for him.

“Understandable,” Clint says finally, slowly and drawing out each syllable. He holds out his hand. “Can I see it?”

And then Tony’s staring at him a few seconds, still and tense. Steve doesn’t know what’s going on in the kid’s head, but this whole thing has rattled him. Slowly, Tony lifts his hand up for Clint and watches as Clint gently feels over his wrist and palm with his thumbs. He lets go as soon as he’s done and Tony stuffs his hand back in his lap.

“Well, nothing’s broken. Just a couple pulled muscles by my guess.” Clint smiles as Steve lets out a sigh of relief. “You’ll be healed up in no time.”

“Yeah, totally wasn’t worried about it,” Tony scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You act like I’ve never had a bruise in my life.”

“Well, you did get that one from a _super soldier_.”

“His superpower is super loud snoring.”

“Hey,” Steve interjects but he’s being ignored by the sass squad.

“Sure it isn’t super farting? Isn’t that an old people thing?”

“You’re late to the party. I got that one the first night.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Clint snickers. “Oh, so sorry. Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“Guess I can’t hold it against you.” Tony’s relaxing again now that the pressure’s off and while Steve appreciates that, he is still blushing with embarrassment. “Not everyone can be a super genius like me.”

“You guys think you’re so funny,” he grumbles and both of them grin at him. Steve shakes his head a bit and levers himself off the floor. “See if I make you any sandwiches.”

“I’ll take mine with dijon and spinach, none of that iceberg crap you eat,” Tony shoots after him. “It’s all water, you know.”

“Oo, make mine with mayo.”

“I forgot the part where this is a restaurant.” Steve snarks back at them even as he takes out both dijon mustard and mayonnaise, the former he’d bought begrudgingly at Tony’s insistence the other day. “Am I wearing a nametag?”

“Hello, my name is Grandpa Oldpants,” Tony responds immediately and Clint’s snickering again. Steve rolls his eyes.

They’ve barely gotten into the game and the sandwiches when Clint’s phone goes off. He excuses himself and steps aside, answering with a clipped, “Barton.”

Steve pretends to not be curious, instead examining the current set up of the pieces (eight directions they could explore another room on, two omens in play) but Tony doesn’t even bother pretending. He’s watching Clint’s back, studying the tenser, more rigid set of his shoulders.

“All not well in the jackboot homeworld?” Tony asks as Clint hangs up and comes back over.

“I’m needed,” Clint says with a shrug. “I’ll leave Betrayal here so feel free to keep playing.”

Steve nods, understanding duty. “Look after yourself.”

“Well, if Captain America says so…” Clint grins and then reaches over to muss up Tony’s hair, getting an outraged snarl for his trouble. “Nat should be back in town in a couple days. Try not to kill each other before then.”

“Why doesn’t anyone believe I’m a grown man?”

“Chill out,” Tony mutters as he fixes his hair. “Mind your blood pressure.”

Steve gives him a dirty look and then walks Clint to the door. Before he closes it after him, Clint pauses and looks at him. He opens his mouth once, closes it, and frowns with faint frustration.

“Do me a favor, Cap?” he asks quietly, keeping it between them.

“Sure.”

“Find out what’s going on with that kid.”

Steve nods solemnly. “First priority.”

“Good.”

Clint leaves and Steve goes back to the game, but Tony’s already packing it up. Steve reaches down to help and Tony jerks like he’s been burned so Steve backs off and lets him do it himself. He doesn’t know how to handle that reaction or even why it happened. Tony sets the packed box on the bar and then wordlessly goes back to the bedroom. Steve stares after him and wonders what he did wrong.

\---

For the next three days, Tony stays in the bedroom. He sneaks out to get food from the kitchen and Steve pretends not to notice because if he moves a muscle while the kid is out, Tony freezes like he’s scared or just zips back into the bedroom again. It’s confusing and disheartening, but Tony won’t talk to him and Steve’s always been terrible with kids.

The fourth day, Steve’s had enough. When Tony comes out to get some lunch, Steve’s waiting for him in the kitchen.

“We need to talk,” he says when Tony stares at him.

Tony shifts from one foot to the other and his hands curl at his sides a moment, then he blurts out, “How about not? How about never.”

“How about _now_ ,” Steve counters.

And then there is a knock at the door that startles both of them. Tony turns tail and runs into the bedroom before Steve can stop him. Giving a frustrated huff, Steve makes his way to the door and half promises to deck who ever’s behind.

“Listen, now is not a good time-” Steve starts but the man behind the door is having none of it.

“It never is,” Fury says, a hard look on his face. “Time to tap back in, Cap. Your country needs you.”


	4. High Voltage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Haha. Hahaha, wow did this chapter keep kicking my butt. And I didn't even have to write half the dialogue.

Fury hands him a folder. In the last few weeks, Steve has gotten pretty sick of that and folders now seem ominous and unpleasant. It’s a good thing he doesn’t work in an office (it’s a terrible thing he doesn’t work at all, nor really has to.) He takes it anyway and lets the man inside. As Steve flips through the pages, reading about something called the Avengers Initiative, Fury glances around at his collection like he doesn’t know every item there (Steve is pretty sure SHIELD has the whole thing catalogued. They seem the type and he _knows_ he’s under surveillance.)

The folder contains information about several people. Natasha is there and apparently she’s a way bigger deal than he figured, as is Clint who’s apparently a genius archer, but Clint’s page also has a red sticker at the top that says “compromised.” Steve’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t know what “compromised” means these days, but in his, it meant some kind of break down or capture or manipulation. And something _big_ must have gone down because Clint was fine three days ago. He also doesn’t know what to think about Fury assigning two high level operatives to watch over him the last few weeks.

Then there’s some poor sap named Bruce Banner who turns into a giant green rage monster. Steve kind of stares at the two pictures for a bit before scanning the very brief history on the guy. Somehow, he thinks he and Dr. Banner are going to get along just fine, science experiment to science experiment.

The last page contains names and a paragraph of basic information about a few others, including a lieutenant colonel combat pilot, some teenager who can walk up walls, a shrinking woman with a penchant for molecular biology, and a guy who commands lightning and might be an alien (Steve stares at that one really, really hard), but each is noted as auxiliary to the main team or completely out of reach.

“So you want me to… what, join a bunch of super soldiers and go fix the world?” Steve says finally. “Last I heard, the Nazis lost and I’m retired.”

Fury smiles with his eyes rather than his mouth. It’s kind of creepy. “Not exactly. The world has its problems but I’m more worried about the violent, psychotic alien with a world destroying power cube running around.”

Steve blinks once. Then a second time. “You aren’t serious.”

“I’ve been told I don’t have a sense of humor,” Fury replies dryly. “You might want to sit down, Cap.”

He doesn’t, not at first, but by the time Fury gets to interdimensional paths through space, he sinks down onto the couch. It sounds like something out of a dime novel, like _Flash Gordon_. He wants to laugh in Fury’s face but the pit of his stomach is twisted with the sick understanding that this is real.

When Fury’s finished, Steve stares ahead for several minutes just trying to get a handle on everything he’s been told. Then he asks, “What about the kid?”

“We found a relative. The grandmother’s remaining family are scattered over Italy and completely uninterested in contacting the real world, but Howard had a nephew and he’s willing to take Tony in while you’re busy. Permanently, if the two of them get along all right.”

Steve nods. It would be good for Tony to be with family, if it’s possible. God knows what he’d been through without them. Sighing a bit, Steve scratches back through his hair and tries to decide how to feel about this but he doesn’t get the chance when the bedroom door opens and Tony strides through like a man on a mission.

“Who is it?” he demands of Fury. “Who’s still alive?”

“His name is Mor-”

“ _No_.”

Steve blinks a little but Fury just shifts to face Tony fully and somehow he seems a lot bigger suddenly, a lot more dangerous. “Stark, I don’t know where you got the idea that you have a choice in the matter. News flash, _you don’t_. Now pack an overnight bag and don’t forget your nightlight-”

“I’m not going with him,” Tony grits out and his hands are tightly fisted at his sides. “I’m staying with Steve.”

“Cap’s got something he needs to do,” Fury starts and Steve is kind of amazed at how bad he is at placating but he’s also growing worried over Tony’s vehement denial.

“I’ll be good,” Tony promises earnestly. “I’ll stay out of the way. I won’t even _talk_. Do you know how hard it is not to talk? But I’ll do it. I swear I won’t say a word the whole time.”

“Stark-”

“Tony, do you know this guy?” Steve asks suddenly. Tony twitches, glances Steve’s way a moment, and then goes back to glaring at Fury.

“No,” he says tightly, in a way that screams _yes_.

“Then why are you so against-”

“Is this because I won’t talk to you?”

“What?! _Tony_. I just think-”

“Is it because I wasn’t- I’ll be better. I can be better. I just-” Tony squeezes his hands so tightly they seem ready to burst. “ _Why are you trying to get rid of me?!”_

Steve goes still, startled, but Tony’s eyes snap wide and he immediately turns on his heel to march back into the bedroom, slamming the door as hard as he can. Steve stares after him and Fury sighs, rolling his eye as a general shuffling starts up inside.

“Why is it that he had to act like a normal kid _right now?_ ” Fury grumbled as he turned back to Steve. “Look, I’ll take care of him. You get ready.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You haven’t said no, either. I like to think that’s good enough.” At Steve’s dirty look, Fury just gestures to the folder. “Those people need a leader, Cap. Someone with combat experience who knows how to work in a team. And maybe a little star power. You’re a symbol. One I need out in the open if this is going to get as bad as I think it will.”

Steve purses his lips. “Not sure how I feel about the ‘in the open’ bit. It’s kind of nice not having everyone know who I am.”

“Tough. You want to live on this planet? Better get up off your ass and keep it turning, then.”

Steve wants to hate him but Fury’s right. If this is as bad as he says, Steve needs to be in the thick of it. He looks at the folder and thinks about the people Fury wants him to work with, supposedly as weird off as he is. This isn’t going to go smoothly and that doesn’t even take into account the megalomaniac alien.

“Fine,” he spits out. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Good. There’s a car outside waiting-” And then Steve cuts him off by standing because he hears metal squeaking too close, right outside the-

He rushes past Fury and grabs the bedroom door but it’s been secured shut- how the _hell_ , it doesn’t even have a _lock_ \- On the second try, he breaks the makeshift lock and hears it crack on the other side. A third hit with his shoulder and the door’s swinging open a few inches, and then he has to get the dresser pushed out of the way enough for him to get through. Tony’s gone and the window is open. Steve ducks half his body out it and spots Tony already dropping off the fire escape to the alley below, a full pack on his back. He yells after him but the kid ignores it and takes off at a run. Steve lunges out after him.

When Steve hits the concrete, Tony’s ducking out the mouth of the alley. The two seconds it takes to get there is all Tony needs to disappear completely in the crowded sidewalk. Steve searches over the continuously moving pedestrians but there are plenty of dark haired boys with backpacks. School’s out. The streets are filled with kids walking home.

Fury grabs his arm out of nowhere and Steve nearly decks him before recognizing who he is. “We’ve got a bead on Stark. Agents are heading to intercept him.”

Something in Steve suddenly releases and he slumps as his sudden adrenaline high breaks. He shoves his hair back out of his eyes and takes a few breaths. This kid is going to kill him.

Against his better judgment, Steve lets Fury corral him to the car. Then he’s back at SHIELD and they’re handing him stars and stripes and it is somehow even more ridiculous in the modern age than it was during the War. They hand him weapons and anything he could possibly think of, if not more. They hand him the shield and they never touched up the paint to hide the bullet strikes. It makes him so nostalgic for a moment than he can barely breathe. He asks about Tony and they tell him he’s being handled, and he can’t quite make himself believe them.

Coulson shows up just as he’s suited up and his weapons have been packed into a neat, easy to carry duffle, the shield on his back. And for a moment, Coulson looks just as star struck as he’d been the first time they met. He smiles a little awkwardly and then shakes Steve’s hand in greeting before leading him on to the plane.

“Did they find Tony?” Steve asks because he trusts Coulson not to bullshit him.

“Only ten minutes after you left,” Coulson assures him, pulling out his cell phone to show a picture one of the agents must have sent him. Tony looks belligerent, mouth open and no doubt formed around a sarcastic comment. Steve relaxes a little. “He’s already on a plane to London to meet up with that cousin we tracked down.”

“Good.” And it is good. Steve’s shown pretty conclusively that he’s a terrible idea for a guardian if Tony running out on him like that is any indication. Tony’ll be fine wherever he is. Better off than with some half-crazy soldier, that’s for sure. But maybe Coulson will keep him informed on how he’s doing.

The ride to meet the others is longer than Steve would have liked. He spends that time looking over the Avenger Initiative members and letting Coulson fill him in on the smaller details. He’s apparently been Natasha and Clint’s handler for years and now he’s Steve’s too, as long as he part of this group. He even manages to explain a bit of what happened to Banner, at least as much as either could understand without having the necessary scientific knowledge of the whole debacle.

“How big is this green rage monster, anyway?”

Coulson smiles. “You’ve been near a bus, correct?”

“Yeah, I leave the house sometimes,” Steve grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

“He’s taller than that.”

Steve whistles low. Coulson continues to smile. Steve figures he probably came up lucky on the super soldier lottery.

\----

Though Steve had been used mostly on land or dropped from planes during the war, SHIELD’s floating aircraft carrier doesn’t feel too strange. Kind of comforting, really, as he sees a couple guys doing their PT. The planes look all wrong and the uniforms are different, but the general sense of duty and purpose is just right.

Natasha’s there when he disembarks, giving him an enigmatic smile. He nods greeting, then murmurs, “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

Her smile widens a little and she cocks her head to one side, making the shoulder length red waves bounce nicely. He’d liked the longer curls just fine but this suits her well.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teases lightly. “Come on; let’s go find Banner before he trips and falls off the edge.”

Steve immediately pictures it. Somehow he doesn’t think the Hulk would be conducive to their mission anytime soon. He shakes his head a bit and followers Natasha across the deck. Bruce Banner is found standing awkwardly near a plane. He looks smaller in person than Steve had expected, with a countenance that makes him easy to overlook, if one doesn’t know who he is. He’s not slight, actually fairly solidly built, but seems kind of brittle anyway. The scruffy hair and glasses help, same with the nervous way his shoulders hunch, how he doesn’t quite raise his head all the way. Makes him seem harmless.

Banner looks surprised when Steve shakes his hand, but he’s nice, his smile a little self-depreciating. Steve gets the feeling most people don’t treat him all that well. He’s not sure if it’s warranted or not, but he might as well start out on the right foot.

Natasha leads them inside and Steve has to admit that he’d kind of expected some kind of flying fortress headquarters or something (the movies had been all about that sort of thing when he was growing up.) When he voices his disappointment, Natasha just snorts.

“Funny you should say that. We’re actually working on a more mobile vehicle but the technology isn’t quite ready yet.”

“More mobile?” Banner muses, shaking his head. “Let me count my blessings that this isn’t a submarine yet.”

Steve briefly tries to imagine submerging the carrier but Natasha just smiles wider. “Wrong direction, Dr. Banner.”

“Oh, no, that’s _much_ worse.”

Steve’s kind of with Banner on this one. Banner himself seems nice enough, but Steve’s gonna do his best not to stress the guy out. He’s not looking forward to an opportunity to tango with his alter ego.

Inside the carrier is much more familiar than Steve was expecting, but there are only so many ways to build a boat. He’s glad he doesn’t get much in the way of motion sickness anymore and gives a bemused look to Banner, who looks a little nauseous. He doesn’t complain though.

The three of them progress through narrow halls to a seemingly random door, but the room beyond it is _huge._ Dozens of people are situated along lines of computer screens, each of them working on something or another (Steve has no idea how to interpret anything, except for one guy who is definitely playing some kind of computer game.) There are three larger screens that span floor to ceiling along one wall and at first Steve takes them for windows because they’re showing pictures of the sea and sky outside, but the three images don’t match up to one another and after a moment, one changes and shows several smaller boxes of information, pictures, a map or two. A glance makes it clear they’re tracking something. Probably the alien.

It’s impressive, to say the least. Maybe someday it won’t be. Steve thinks that will be a good day.

Fury greets them, has Natasha take Banner to a lab space that’s been set up for him. Apparently, Banner had been brought in to try and track the cube, since it emits some specific type of radiation Banner’s an expert on. Steve doesn’t take in much of the specifics (science was never his bag, even if physics had proven invaluable to him with the shield,) but he nods along because he understands that if they can track the cube, they can track the alien, Loki.

Loki isn’t the most ridiculous name he’s ever heard but it’s up there. When Fury shows him the footage of his initial attack however, there is absolutely nothing funny about Loki at all. Steve studies it thoroughly, watching the way Loki bore the staff and the strange energy he could generate. He doesn’t want to call it magic, but there doesn’t seem to be a better word for it.

Steve is used to enemies that just try to shoot him. He’s out of his depth with a guy that might possibly be able to _control his mind_. Watching Loki turn Clint is harder than he’d thought. Clint’s a nice guy. He doesn’t deserve this. Steve doubts the scientist did either.

Since there’s no guarantee Banner will be able to track the cube accurately, SHIELD had been working on finding Loki the old fashioned way. There’s not much Steve can do on that front, but he’s patient while the specialists do their job, using some kind of fancy face recognition software (Steve hears the words and gets the concept okay, but this is still way out of his depth.)

Loki’s tracked down to a place in Germany within a day only because the guy decides to make himself obvious. Steve and Natasha go to a mainland SHIELD base and then head for Stuttgart in an aircraft that makes him double take, especially when Natasha calls it a helicopter. It looks nothing like what he’d seen the Germans using back in the war except for the rotor. Steve doubts the bulbous thing will even take off.

He’s glad he didn’t actually bet Natasha anything because damned if it doesn’t just take off but also gets a good clip of speed doing it, too. She smirks proudly at his expression but is nice enough not to rib him much on the way.

They get there just in time to watch Loki murder an old man in a huge group of civilians. Steve doesn’t think. He just opens the side door and leaps out even as Natasha curses after him, but he knows how far he can drop without injuring himself. Loki doesn’t see him coming. Steve brings the shield down on his head, only pulling the blow a bit to keep from killing the guy.

It’s a testament to how insanely strong these aliens are that Loki only grunts with pain and doesn’t crumple at Steve’s feet. He doesn’t look like an alien, even in person. He’s too tall, too solid, but still human enough and Steve knows how to fight humans. Loki’d stumbled a few steps back after the hit, bringing his staff to bear. The power is in the staff. If Steve could get it out of his hands…

“You’re a little late,” Loki murmurs as the people around them scatter. Bastard isn’t even bleeding. “Manners, Captain.”

Steve narrows his eyes, wondering just how an _alien_ knows who he is. “Maybe I’m just being fashionable.”

“If someone has lead you to believe that ensemble is in any way fashionable, I’m afraid you are far more gullible than I imagined.”

Steve is almost amused (he rather agrees) but then Loki jerks into the attack. The magic is both annoying and dangerous. Steve dodges around balls of it as he works on closing the distance, trying not to let exploding cars and such distract him from his target. He gets in close enough to get a solid hit but the guy feels like he’s made out of marble for all the good that does him. Loki smirks and then Steve goes flying. He hits the ground before he’s realized the son of a bitch hit him and _hard_.

He wonders a second if the lightning guy is as tough as this one. And wouldn’t it be nice if he had some back up?

By the time Steve manages to pick himself up (his chest hurts like hell, the bastard might have cracked a rib with that,) Loki’s caught up and catches him with the backside of the staff right to his face. Steve groans but jerks a foot out to trip Loki as he scrambles onto his feet again. Loki sends another blast at him that Steve narrowly dodges, and then Loki’s on his feet again with a vengeance. He chases Steve past a few parked cars that end up trashed for their trouble, at least until a spray of bullets takes his attention long enough for Steve to get his footing back.

As Loki blasts at the helicopter (Natasha manages to dance around the shots somehow,) Steve makes his way around and comes up fast on Loki’s flank. He throws back his shield arm and then twists at the last second, throwing his full momentum into slamming the shield edge down across Loki’s shoulders and back. It sends the alien back several feet and the staff clatters out of reach. Before he can get up again, bullets pepper the ground around him. Loki goes still and Steve glances up to see the helicopter hovering near, guns primed for another round.

“Get up and I’ll put the next ones in your chest,” Natasha’s voice comes over the loud speaker, low and steady.

Loki shifts a bit, rolling to sit up. He looks between Natasha and Steve and then just sighs a little as he lifts empty hands. Steve blinks with confusion. He knows he hasn’t messed Loki up that much and the guy is solid as he is. This doesn’t feel right but Steve can hear the SHIELD teams closing in to make the capture. Maybe he’s just being paranoid.

Paranoid or not, Steve supervises as Loki’s cuffed and loaded into a bigger transport aircraft, which looks a little less insane than the helicopter. Natasha lands and one of the SHIELD agents takes her place as she follows Steve into the other aircraft. Natasha heads for the helm, but Steve stays back. He doesn’t want to let Loki leave his sight, not with that bad feeling still pinging.

As they take off, Steve calls up Coulson over the comm. “Tony in London yet?”

“Still en route.” Coulson’s voice is staticy but it’s clear enough he’s amused. “I’ll let you know when he’s safely with Mr. Stark.”

“Thanks.” Steve hesitates a moment, then asks a bit more shyly, “You think after this, I could go around there, meet the guy?”

“I’m sure it can be arranged.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Cap.”

Steve settles back in his seat and considers buckling up the restraints but doesn’t. It’s weird how they’re structured and the idea of strapping in makes him just a touch claustrophobic. Glancing across the way, he finds Loki studying him.

“Are you not happy with your victory?” the alien asks, a thin brow lifted, and now that he is still long enough for Steve to get a good look at him, Loki looks almost _sick._ Heavy bags under his eyes, giving him a sleepless gaze. Skin too pale, a deep desperation felt even now in the relative calm. No, he doesn’t look well at all and Steve isn’t sure how much of it is physical and how much might be in his head. Or if the signs would be the same for an alien race, even if it is so similar to his own.

“The job isn’t done yet,” he replies finally and Loki continues to stare at him. His eyes are intensely green, an unnerving shade of it that Steve doesn’t like at all.

“Oh yes. You will turn me over to your superiors. Let them pat your head and praise you as the obedient hound you are.” Loki smirks at him but it seems wane, going through the motions. Steve doesn’t know what to think about him. “Perhaps they will supply you with a treat.”

“I don’t work for them. This was a favor,” Steve can’t keep himself from biting back, but Loki just chuckles.

“Shall I add delusional to your list of attributes, Captain?”

Steve doesn’t bother rising to the barb. He folds his arms, giving Loki an unimpressed stare that only makes him snort with amusement. However, that fades as a crash of thunder sounds from far off. Steve watches as the mirth drains from his face, green eyes flickering upward as if to follow the sounds.

“What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightning?” It’s a cheap shot but Steve doesn’t feel all that charitable right now.

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki muses and he doesn’t quite flinch at the next crack so much as go carefully still.

Then something big hits the plane and all hell breaks loose. For a moment, all Steve knows is Natasha’s yelling voice and the sound of screeching metal as the bay door is forced. Then he moves to open the door because if he lets it get mangled and they can’t close it again, that might cause Natasha some difficulty.

A man pushes past him without care, bright red cape and long blond hair flying around him. He pays Steve no mind and instead goes right after Loki. Steve thinks he hears the word “brother” and then the guy in red is dragging Loki from the restraints and right out the bay door. It takes seconds. Steve stares after them. Then he grimly puts his helmet on and readies the shield.

“Pit stop,” he calls to Natasha.

“Be careful. That guy is basically a god.”

Steve snorts at the ridiculousness of that. “There’s only one God, ma’am. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.”

He engages the bay door to close and then drops through it before it can finish. Wind buffets his body but he keeps his eyes open, tracking a red shape he can just barely see now. He angles his body as best he can, trying to follow their descent, and when they hit the tree line and disappear, at least he’s close. Steve breaks his fall through the limbs with the shield and cancels enough of his momentum that finding the ground only hurts a little, and only because his chest is already aching. He can hear a voice in the distance, loud and angry, and grimly heads after it.

He’s pretty sure that’s the lightning wielding alien that was in the dossier, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let him off with their prime suspect. Without Loki, there’s no way to find the cube. And the cube is the priority.

Steve treks through the trees and underbrush gamely. At least it’s not twenty below with snow on the ground. He counts that as a good sign.

“-remember none of that?”

“I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king! _”_

It comes from above him and Steve follows a rocky formation to see a couple figures moving on a ridge above. He sighs and starts climbing.

“So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No, the earth is under _my_ protection, Loki!”

Well, that’s nice to get straightened out.

“And you’re doing a marvelous job with that,” Loki laughs out in haughty tones. Steve wonders if he can slap the guy. He thinks that would be extremely satisfying. “The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?”

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well-” Loki cuts off and abruptly a blond head peeks over the edge of the ridge. Steve stares up at him from several feet below.

“Give me a hand?” he asks blandly, like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on anything. The blond narrows his eyes a bit and mutters something to Loki in a low tone before he carefully leavers himself down the ridge, enough to grab Steve and then haul him up with laughable ease. Steve tries not to feel intimidated by that. This guy is _definitely_ stronger than Loki.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you kind of got in the middle of a prisoner exchange,” Steve says as the blond straightens. “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve Rogers.”

He holds out his hand and the blond gives him a shrewd look for a few moments before taking that hand. His grip is firm and Steve feels warmth even through his glove. “I am Thor, son of Odin.”

“Run along then, Thor,” Loki sneers. “I’m to follow this hound back to his masters.”

“What is it you want with my brother?” Thor’s voice is not raised, nor does he sound unkind or threatening, but there is an underlying authority that some drill sergeants would kill for.

“He stole something that could potentially destroy the world, as I understand it.”

Loki snorts. “You have no notion of the power that object holds. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract and when I wield it-”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor demands, turning on the other man with concern Steve can read easily under his irritation. There’s a story between these two, one Steve figures has a pretty awful ending. “Who controls the would-be-king?”

“I _am_ a king!” Loki snarls and Thor grabs him up by the front of his jacket.

“Not here!” Thor roars back.

“Excuse me,” Steve murmurs and they both stare at him like he’s the crazy one for interrupting them. “Not that I don’t appreciate you guys getting a chance to hash things out – it sounds like you need it – but I just need this power cube thing returned. So if we could concentrate on that a moment…”

“I don’t have it,” Loki says snidely, lips pulling into a grin as Thor glares at him furiously. “You need the cube to bring me home but I’ve sent it off I know not where.”

Thor’s lip curls back as he growls out, “You listen well, brother. I-”

“Who’d you give it to?” Steve is kind of surprised Thor doesn’t go after him right then but he doesn’t have time for this kind of posturing. He’s got a time limit.

Loki keeps grinning and his teeth are obscenely white. Steve wants to punch them clean out of his face.

“Okay,” Steve says amiably. “Thor, would you mind coming down with him to our base for some questioning? We’re both after the cube, right? And something tells me this guy isn’t going to be so easy to keep hold of on your own.”

Thor narrows his eyes but considers it. He gives Loki a dark look that the guy just grins nastily back at, then tersely nods. “Very well. I will accept your generous offer.”

“Good.” Steve taps his earpiece to patch up to Natasha and has her come around to pick them up. They get back to the carrier without incident and Fury puts Loki into some kind of high tech holding room. Once Loki is squared away, Steve leads Thor up to a meeting room where Banner and Natasha are waiting, along with a woman that introduces herself as Agent Hill. Her handshake is about as firm as Thor’s and her expression books no disagreement. She reminds him of Peggy, a little.

Fury joins them soon after and starts the debriefing, only to pause and touch his ear. “This is Fury, go ahead.”

There’s a few moments of silence and then Fury’s face twists with incredulity. “Stark is _where?!_ ”

Steve feels something inside him go cold. By now, Tony should be in London, meeting up with his cousin. What… Fury reaches down and angrily taps a few keys on the display in front of him. A screen set into the center of the table switches on.

It’s the camera feed on Loki’s prison. And there is a teenage boy standing right in front of the glass.

“- _lost on your way to the Ren Faire, huh?_ ”

 


	5. All Screwed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have one scene of Tony's POV. I tried really hard to write it from Steve's but I just couldn't get everything I wanted out of it that way. So, while the story is primarily from Steve's POV, I've decided to allow myself to use other POVs when it is better for the story.

“Find out how the hell he got here,” Fury hisses at Hill. “I want to know what idiots let that kid walk past them. Who was the assigned escort?”

Hill whips out something bigger than a phone (Steve doesn’t know where she was carrying it in the close fitting uniform SHIELD prefers so much of the time and he isn’t going to ask) and taps it a bit, then answers with calm, concise tones, “Agent Connell.”

“Find that damn moron and get him here. I want to hear this story and if it’s not a good one, I swear to God, I’ll wring his neck. Do we have a working neuralizer yet? Can I make him think he’s a mail room clerk for the rest of his life?”

“Still in testing stages, sir, and that would be unethical,” Hill says as seriously as ever, then she heads out of the meeting room without another word.

Steve might feel bad for Connell (except not really because he’s got no sympathy for people who hit kids and why the hell was he allowed close to Tony after last time, Steve is going to have words with these people) but right now his eyes are glued to the screen. Tony looks all right, as well as Steve can see from the back anyway. He’s got his hands in his pockets and his posture is slack and relaxed.

 _“You’re, like,_ super _huge and I live with a huge guy. Any pointers?”_

_“Your weak, Midgardian genes predispose you to inadequacy, I’m afraid.”_

_“Ah well. I guess I don’t really want to be tall anyway.”_

It’s strange just how _civil_ Loki’s being. The alien stands at the edge of his cage, as relaxed as Tony, and doesn’t seem all that threatening. Instead, he just seems bored and a little curious. Steve still wants to get Tony out of there _right now._ He straightens, heading for the door, but Natasha grabs his arm.

“Wait,” she says, eyes glued to the screen.

“But Tony-”

“I want to see how this plays out.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. He considers going down there and waiting outside the door, maybe letting one of them signal him if things go bad inside, but then he wouldn’t be able to see what was happening.

_“Why are you in there, anyway?”_

_“I suppose it has something to do with the price of my own brilliance.”_

_“Harsh. I hear you, though. These guys locked me up for a while, too.”_

“You locked up a _child?_ ” Banner says suddenly, staring at Fury disapprovingly as the man mulishly glares back. “What did he do, spit on the building?”

“That kid hacked through three levels of our secured base mainframe and we don’t know why or what he found. We still aren’t even quite sure who the hell he really is outside of some genetic relation to the late Howard Stark. Yes. We locked him up.” Fury folds his arms over his chest but it doesn’t seem defensive so much as making himself an open threat. “Cap’s been looking after him mostly. He wasn’t in jail.”

Banner purses his lips but backs down, glancing back to the screen.

“ _You seem young to be involved in an operation such as this_ ,” Loki muses idly and Tony shrugs his shoulders with an exaggerated lack of care.

_“Let’s just say I’m not exactly expected.”_

_“A stowaway?”_

_“Yeah, well, I’m kind of like the flu. Try to get rid of me and I’ll just keep coming back.”_

_“Then you are unwanted, it seems.”_

Tony goes still and Steve’s fingers tighten on the edge of the table, the metal groaning under them.

“ _Sure. Why not._ ” The response is flat, guarded, and it makes Steve ache inside.

Loki makes a quiet, thoughtful hum as he steps closer to the glass, leaning a shoulder casually against it. He folds his arms, watching the boy in front of him. “ _You are Tony Stark, are you not?_ ”

_“My genius precedes me?”_

_“Clint Barton told me of you.”_

“He is planning something,” Thor says, his voice low and tense. “I do not believe this course of questioning should be allowed to continue.”

“Wait,” Natasha replies and Thor does.

Tony had been quiet but now he asks more quietly, “ _Is he okay?_ ”

“ _I have expanded his mind. He is settling into his new purpose very well indeed._ ”

Beside Steve, Natasha is very, very still. Her expression shows nothing, but there is a greater intensity as she gazes at the display. Tony is tense and still on the screen. Steve wishes he could see his face even though he can read hurt and fear in his posture easily, wishes he’d moved when he wanted to and could have already dragged Tony away from the psychotic alien in the big glass box because he’s stuck solid now. If he goes, he could miss something.

“ _Tell me, Tony Stark, do_ you _have purpose?_ ”

\----

The man in the glass box- no, he realizes, can’t be glass, has to be reinforced plastic, something that would bend without shattering, give a little, wow is that thick. Did that thing have air pumping in and out of it or some kind of closed filtration system… The man in the box would have towered over Tony by two or three feet if they were on level ground. The box makes him seem that much bigger somehow.

Tony has never liked it when people are bigger than him. The bigger they are, the harder they –

Height of approximately two hundred centimeters, normal weight for sturdy framed male of that height to be somewhere between eighty and ninety kilograms, force needed to knock him over -

“You do not,” the man in the box says when he doesn’t answer, and his lips cut a cruel, mocking line across his face. He leans his shoulder to the glass, giving a false sense of casualness, like they’re just being friendly, like he wouldn’t twist Tony’s neck if he could reach it. “You poor, pathetic thing.”

“I’m not the one in the box.” Force needed to knock him over –

“No, you’re simply the aimless fosterling that had to sneak silent upon this vessel when your newest keeper threw you away.”

Tony’s mind stops moving. He stares at the man, feeling his chest begin to tighten around his heart despite the fact that this is not the worst thing he’s ever heard, what is _wrong_ with him, he doesn’t _care_.

“This one didn’t last long, did he, Stark? Even the great Captain America didn’t want you,” the man purrs out and Tony doesn’t know how he knows, how he _could_ know- “Tell me, did your parents pass from this world or did they simply grow tired of your presence?”

Force needed to – Force –

“Has anyone _ever_ wanted you?”

Force –

“You know a lot about being unwanted, huh?” Tony says without really thinking about it because his mouth is faster than his head, always has been, and suddenly that makes a lot of sense. “Your dad throw you away, too?”

The man’s amusement dies abruptly. _Point_.

“Oh, hit a nerve huh? Turnabout’s fair play,” Tony snaps angrily, his hands tightening into painful fists. “You know, people tell me _I’ve_ got no manners but wow. _Wow_. You are a piece of work. What’s wrong, did Daddy like his work more than you? Mommy too busy to give you the time of day?”

“Shut your gaping maw!” the man snarls and slams his fist on the side of the vessel with enough force that Tony flinches. “You have no notion as to what you speak.”

His voice has gone cold and low with barely lashed fury but Tony is too angry to let that stop him. “What, you get to bring up parents but I don’t? No, doesn’t work that way. You want me to back off? Then you get to do the same. _Back. Off_.”

Tony watches the man’s lip curl back in a sneer but he stands his ground. He’s not the one in the overgrown fish tank. He can leave anytime he wants – Oh _crap_ , this room is most definitely being taped, someone’s bound to have noticed him by now, why is he still here –

“You have heart,” the man in the box says abruptly, his anger pulled back to smolder behind his eyes. “Perhaps you would be of use to me.”

“Rain check.” Wow that guard change is taking longer than he’d figured it would – Who is he kidding, they’d delayed the other guy the moment they realized he was in here. As soon as Tony leaves, he’s sure to walk right into SHIELD’s hands and then how is he supposed to get anything done? Tony goes to the console near the prison.

“What are you doing?” the man asks and actually sounds curious this time instead of haughty.

“Using someone’s stupidity.” The last guard didn’t sign out of his station. Tony gets in easy. He knows he won’t have much time and they’re probably already monitoring what he’s doing – yeah, definitely, he can see functions and directories being cut off right and left – so he doesn’t bother hiding the search he’s running this time. It didn’t really matter to hide it the first time, really, he just hates the idea of someone spying on his activities. “Seriously, you’d be surprised what you can get away with when someone else isn’t careful.”

“I don’t suppose you could be persuaded into freeing me while you’re there.”

“Why, because you’ve been _so_ nice and well behaved?” Not that Tony would, but that command was the first one locked away from him. “Anyone ever say you look like a crazy hobo?”

The man doesn’t seem all that disappointed but he watches Tony with sharp eyes. Resisting the urge to shiver, Tony turns back to the console. Most of the system has already been locked out (the jackboots are quick, he’ll give them that) but he gets one file before it can be stamped out as well.

It’s the same one he’d filched from the folder in Steve’s apartment.

Tony curses under his breath and then attacks the communication controls. It doesn’t take much to open up a signal throughout the ship and then Tony snarls out, “You guys are such assholes! What’s your damage?!”

It’s cut off right after from another source but Tony doesn’t really care about that.

“What is the point of that?”

Tony whirls around to glare at him. “What do you care, Fishbowl? Maybe I just like to yell at people. It’s a legitimate thing to do!”

“Oh, very well. If you insist.”

“I do insist. Loudly, even. Because yelling.”

Tony gives up on the console because it’s completely locked out now, functions taken over by other stations elsewhere, and he could probably get through anyway if he tried hard enough but it’d take forever, and it’s not like he cares enough about it to bother. (He doesn’t want to care that he didn’t find anything new.) He gives it a last dirty look and then goes back towards the door. He picks up his backpack from beside it and slips it on, taking a deep breath.

“They’re dead,” he says and he’s kind of surprised his voice is so even because it’s the first time he’s been able to say it aloud and maybe the man in the box won’t connect what question he’s even answering, but he figures he should be able to say it anyway. Sometimes, you have to accept things as they are.

Tony doesn’t wait for the man to respond, instead plowing right out the door into a narrow hallway and wouldn’t you know it, there’s the guard that he’d snuck past and the one come to replace him. They give him a glance over like they’re not sure what to do with him, exactly, but Tony ignores them because Captain America is standing a few feet behind and suddenly nothing else matters at all.

He’d kind of thought after living with the guy for a week and seeing what a walking disaster he is that the suit wouldn’t make much of a difference to him. He was wrong. He was so, so totally, completely, embarrassingly wrong.

“Tony,” Cap breathes out like he’s lost the air in his lungs all at once and it just happens to form Tony’s name. His face is disgustingly open, relief and fear both showing through, and he’s standing there like he’d rather be coming right at him, either to clobber him or hug him, Tony’s not sure, and he’s uncomfortable with either outcome. The two guards glance between them and then move aside, one side stepping past Tony to go to his post.

“What,” Tony finds himself saying, “the old suit wasn’t good enough?”

Because it’s different and of anyone in the world, Tony would know that  with only half a glance, at night, high on whatever drugs are popular these days. Because he’d memorized every facet of that suit by the time he was three. He knows every battle, can recite the old war bonds spiel by heart, can even tell you every Howling Commando’s shoe size and exactly how many pages there are in the war diary of Sergeant Bucky Barnes, the latter of which he can recite without mistake. There is an infinitesimally small amount of trivia he doesn’t know when it comes to Captain America.

Who is now walking towards him with a grim look on his star-spangled face and Tony only manages a single, reflexive step back.

“Cause I gotta say, this one’s probably tailored better, but there’s something to be said about the old-fashioned classics-” Tony doesn’t even know what the hell he’s saying; he just wants that look off Cap’s face, “and say, did you lose weight in the ice because wow, that is a good look for you- No, actually, it’s awful, how could anyone put you in that. How could they put you in the first suit, really, it’s just a crying shame, do these people know nothing about color theory-”

And then Captain America is hugging him and Tony can’t make himself utter another word.

“You’re going to be the death of me, kid,” Cap chokes out, sounding both bothered and amused and Tony’s crushed up against muscle and armor and he can hear the beat of Cap’s heart even though he’s too short to be that near it and maybe that’s just his own heart, hammering in his ears and catching his breath up short.

Cap is so _warm_.

The moment he feels a prickle of impending doom in his eyes is the moment Tony’s had enough. He gives Cap a shove (not that it does anything, Jesus Christ, the man must weigh half a ton) and gets another squeeze in response before he’s released.

“Now that was cute.”

 _Oh god, really?_ Tony glances past the insane bulk that is Cap and glares at his ex-favorite jackboot. “Excuse me, I think we were having a moment. I’m kind of confused at what, exactly, that moment is about but oh, look at the time. I better be going-”

The moment he makes a break for it, there an arm around him that’s as yielding as a steel bar and Tony can’t bring himself to face him, but he grumbles anyway, “Okay, fine, I’ll stick around for the lecture, would you _please_ stop _grabbing me_.”

He’s kind of surprised at how fast Cap lets go and then makes the mistake of looking up on instinct and seeing the color leach out of Cap’s face at an impressive rate. Oh no, not again-

“I think you better come with me,” Natasha says and he could kiss her, she’s the best jackboot after all. Tony turns tail and scampers her way because he can _not_ deal with Cap and his kicked puppy face (worse than kicked puppy, like he’d drowned the thing and put it through a meat grinder right in front of him.) Cap doesn’t follow them and Tony tries not to feel guilty as Natasha leads him through the halls of the aircraft carrier.

\----

Steve trusts Natasha to get Tony wherever SHIELD’s decided to stash him until they can make another try at getting him to his cousin. He kind of has to, considering how little Tony wants to be near him.

He hadn’t been thinking about that, though. He’d been thinking about the way Tony had gone still and quiet, the things Loki was saying to him, and he’d had someone route the audio to the ear piece he hated so much so he could get down there. Everything he’d heard just made him more sure he needed to get Tony out of there. He had to make sure Tony knew he wasn’t _throwing him away._

Steve doesn’t know what Anthony Stark is like, or his wife whoever she is, but he can read between the lines of what Loki implied and what Tony had said because you don’t know to make certain assumptions or ask certain questions without knowing what it’s like. He’s not about to let Tony think sending him to his cousin is because Steve doesn’t want him around or that it’s some kind of simple solution to the problem of him. He spent far too long feeling that same way in a world where his weak body made him useless in all the ways that counted to everyone else.

_They’re dead._

Steve is afraid to ask Tony who he meant because he has a painful sinking feeling about who, exactly, they are. And that just makes him more miserable. Added to it that Tony was apparently searching for records about Howard in SHIELD’s system? A lot of things are coming together to make a very unhappy scene.

And somehow, just by being around, Steve is making it even worse.

_Why are you trying to get rid of me?!_

The way Tony had run. The way Tony had gone frozen when Steve hugged him. The way he’d pushed away.

_Would you please stop grabbing me._

It’s been half an hour and Steve still feels like he’s been gutted. He sits in the debrief meeting, only half listening as Fury goes over what they know about Loki, what they’ve guessed, about the missing scientist and Clint, about all these things that should be in the forefront of his mind, but Steve can’t stop hearing Tony’s words.

He screwed up and this kid is getting screwed up right with him. He doesn’t know how to fix that.

“So, Thor, what’s his play?” Fury says and Steve forces himself to pay attention. He has time to figure things out with Tony but right now there’s a world ending emergency and he needs his head in the game.

“He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard, nor any world known.” Thor is all grim determination and a sort of veiled frustration. “He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that Steve can’t help shaking his head. “An army. From outer space.”

He almost wishes the war was still going. At least that hadn’t felt like he was living in a _Flash Gordon_ serial, super soldier serum excluded.

“So he’s building another portal,” Banner speaks up, fiddling with his glasses. “That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

Steve thinks back to the dossier. Selvig was a scientist, one of the better ones, he’d guess, since SHIELD had him working under them directly with the Tesseract. Steve doesn’t remember what kind of scientist (they’re all one kind to him, really). And it turns out Thor knows him and Steve feels for the guy, he really does, because even though he hadn’t know Clint all that well, he’d still been hurt to find out Loki had him.

But hurt or not, there’s something that keeps bugging him. “I want to know why Loki let us take him. He’s not leading an army from here.”

“I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki,” Banner mutters. “That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats. You could smell crazy on him.”

The mental image is amusing but there’s nothing funny about how stormy Thor’s expression gets. “Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard. And he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha shoots back, her expression hard and dark. Steve can feel the tensions rising steadily so he gets up, hands raised.

“How about we don’t rip each other apart right now?” he offers, but his voice is firm. If he treats them like soldiers, maybe they’ll respond a little better. “Let’s focus on what’s going to happen and how we stop it.”

Steve gets a dirty look from both of them for his trouble, but he stays steady. The moment he backs off is the moment he’s lost them and if Fury sees him for leading the misfits, he can’t be fighting for every inch of esteem.

“Let’s start with what he needs the Tesseract for in the first place,” he says, hoping to guide them.

“It is a great source of power,” Thor admits, still looking a little sour.

Banner gets thoughtful looking. “I think it’s about the mechanics. He’s got to build another portal, right? Iridium… How would iridium help him?”

“Isn’t that used in spaceships?”

They go quiet because the voice didn’t come from any of them and there’s no one else in the meeting room. Abruptly, Fury looks down at the screen on the table. Tony stares back at him, brows lifted, absolutely innocent.

“Stark, how the hell did you-”

“This is a _really_ comfy chair,” Tony gloats, leaning back in the black leather chair so that bits of the room behind him can be seen. It looks like a private room-

“ _You_ -” Fury reaches to tap his earpiece. “Security, there’s an idiot teenager trying my very last nerve sitting in my personal quarters. Remove him and put him in the brig. And put whoever was supposed to be guarding him in there, too. Let them rot together.”

“This computer is definitely the best part though,” Tony continues, undaunted. “Did you realize you have unlimited access to every system on the ship once you get past that super simple, four-digit password, Eyepatch? Oh look, someone’s trying to shut me out. _Denied_.”

“Oh my god, Tony.” Steve leans over the table, staring at him, and the way Tony’s glee dims makes him sure the kid can see him. “What are you doing?

“Nothing.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Oh hey, it’s used in particle physics too. That’s neat. These guys have way better internet than the apartment.”

Steve looks heavenward.

Natasha gives him a commiserating pat on the shoulder. “Okay kid, what do know about particle physics?”

“Considerably less than I’d like right now. I’m more of a robot kind of guy but I could be persuaded to give it a looksie for a pretty girl like- _Holy crap_ , is that the _Hulk?_ ”

Banner smiles thinly. “Hello, Tony. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Wow. Huge fan of how you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage-monster. The kids back home were all about that, except one kid who said it had to be a hoax, but he ate glue so who even cares.” Tony gets hold of himself, sort of, but keeps glancing at something. Steve wonders if that’s where the feed with Banner in it might be. “Look, iridium is this kind of- Okay, so it’s better with something else, right? Alloyed? It’s like a stabilizing agent.”

Steve doesn’t get it but suddenly Banner’s gone thoughtful again. “The Tesseract has untold power. Hard to contain on its own, harder to use in any way other than a bomb.”

“Bombs are cool,” Tony protests but Banner’s not listening.

“The iridium would allow him to stabilize the portal. Keep it going as long as he wanted; make it as big as he wanted. But he’d need a considerable power source to get anything going, something very high-density.”

“Hang on.” Tony looks pretty intent and Steve can hear keys hit at impressive speeds. “That astrophysics guy was Selvig, right? With a “w” or that weird Scandinavian “v” thing- Oh, there it is. You might want to talk to your people about organization, Eyepatch, his files are _everywhere_. Wouldn’t want to get this mixed up with that thing about those bogus laser rifles-”

“Excuse me, do I bother _you_ about housecleaning?” Fury growls and then taps his earpiece. “What’s the status on extracting Stark from my rooms? You- What do you mean you can’t get in the door?”

Steve looks at Natasha, mouthing out “ _laser rifles?_ ” but she just shrugs her shoulders.

“You really are paranoid,” Tony says blithely. “I mean, it’s like a panic room in here.”

Fury sucks in a slow breath through his nose.

“Maybe you need a stiff drink to settle your nerves.”

Fury pinches the bridge of his nose right between his eyes.

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Steve asks, hoping to get through this without Fury deciding to murder the kid.

“He would have to heat the cube to 120-million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier,” Banner says, skeptical and awkward about asserting himself, but Steve nods to him anyway, hoping to keep him going.

“Coulomb – Oh, that’s quantum stuff, I remember that one. Sounded like a challenge,” Tony says thoughtfully. “So if he could to that, he’d be able to achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet, right?”

“If,” Banner stresses, but he looks a little surprised at that point. “And that’s a big if. He’d have to somehow stabilize the quantum tunneling effect first.”

“Are they speaking English?” Steve asks Natasha in a low voice and her lips quirk a little on one side.

“I have no idea.”

“ _Regardless_ ,” Fury barks, voice raising to get all of their attention. “Do you have enough to track the cube, Dr. Banner?”

“Well, Loki’s staff is powered by the cube somehow. At least I have that to start with.”

“Can I help?” Tony pipes up.

“ _No_ ,” Fury snarls at the same time that Steve says, “Sure.”

They look at one another and Steve things there might be a vein ready to pop on Fury’s forehead. Neither of them miss the way Banner hums though, thinking about it.

“It might be useful to have a lab assistant,” he admits, but then grows more worried. “It… probably isn’t safe, though.”

“I know how to not blow up a lab,” Tony grumbles. Steve ignores it because as Banner meets his eyes, he knows exactly what the man is talking about and Steve finds himself suddenly terrified of the possibility of Tony being up close and personal with the potential Hulk.

“Stark goes no where _near_ the labs,” Fury declares firmly. “Banner, please get started. I have a runt to deal with.”

“Spoilsport!” Tony cries as Fury turns and leaves the meeting room.

Steve sighs and starts to say something when the speakers suddenly start playing a jaunty piece of music. He doesn’t know it but Natasha rolls her eyes beside him and Banner has a pinched look on his face. Steve turns to the screen but it’s gone dark, so instead he goes after Fury. He follows him through different halls to where a group of agents stand outside a sealed door, trying to open it.

Fury’s pissed, Steve worries for Tony’s safety, especially when the song repeats itself over and over, but when they manage to get the doors open, the kid’s not in Fury’s rooms anymore.

“Is he a goddamn ninja?” Fury snarls as the chorus swells into an energetic cry of, “ _Secret… Agent man! Secret… Agent man!_ ”

“Sir, he seems to have escaped through the ventilation,” one of the agents says and both Fury and Steve crowd him to look. The duct work is a lot smaller than in Steve’s day and even with as small as Tony is, he’s having trouble believing he could get through that, no matter with the chair sitting under it as evidence.

“I want to blame this on you,” Fury mutters, giving Steve a nasty look, and Steve just sighs.

“Yeah, I kind of expected that.”

Steve watches Fury go inspect his computer, see if there was anything else Tony did other than join the meeting and set a song on repeat. He feels kind of useless with the rest of them, so he turns towards the door only to see the moment when Tony unfolds himself from behind some kind of decorative piece Steve hadn’t even noticed and sprints out the door. Steve yells and goes after him.

That’s how he and half a dozen agents end up playing hide and seek with Tony for the next hour.

\----

In Tony’s defense, he didn’t unload a virus or anything, so he considers them square. Fury does not agree.

It also turns out that Tony can, in fact, bully his way into the air vents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fudging a bit of reality when it comes to air vents, especially ventilation on ships, under the idea that this is like the biggest aircraft carrier ever and it gets treated more like an industrial space in its design. Work with me here.
> 
> Also there is not a lot of resolve here, sorry. I meant to have Tony and Steve have a good talk, which would of course include how Tony got on the carrier, but somehow that talk just didn't have a place. Maybe later, when the plot allows.


	6. T.N.T.

They can’t keep Tony confined to a room without a guard stationed inside with him. The second he’s out of sight, even just to visit the restroom, he finds some way to escape. After the fourth time he shows up in Banner’s lab in as many hours, Steve finally gives in and tells Fury to back off. He does not, however, just leave Tony to run riot in Banner’s presence. Instead, he makes Tony promise to stay at one end of the space and not crowd Banner under any circumstances. Banner’s uneasy but makes the off comment that he hasn’t transformed in nearly a year and he’s got an okay hold on things.

(Steve’s ridiculously comforted that Banner is as grimly apprehensive as he is, if only that it means Banner has a good idea of just how dangerous he can be. Steve finds that people who lie to themselves and others about that sort of thing are even more of a risk.)

Steve stays in another corner of the lab with something called a tablet. Hill’d given it to him and shown him the basics in how to use it, so now he pours over the records of the first time Loki attacked, even though mostly the event is about Thor. Maybe they’ll give him some insight into Loki’s squirrelly mind. If anything, it shows him what kind of power Thor’s packing and knowing that is a good thing.

He hears Banner snort and glances up. Banner’s giving an amused look at one of his computer screens and then there’s a faint snicker from Tony. Steve glances between them but they aren’t even looking at each other so he goes back to reading about Thor’s hammer.

Then the snickering happens again and Banner doesn’t quite manage to cover up a single, surprised bark of laughter. Tony’s hunched over the laptop some SHIELD agent had scrounged for him, hand over his mouth and obvious mirth under it, and Banner seems almost surprised to find whatever is going on so funny. Steve blinks between them and figures there must be some kind of non-verbal communication system between them, maybe another function of the computers Steve’s so terrible at.

It’s kind of nice to see both of them smiling. Real smiles, the kind you make when you’re actually happy or amused.

It feels a little lonely to be left out, though. He tries to ignore that because he’s not a whiny child, nor a jealous man, and if anyone deserves to make friends, it’s probably these two.

“You guys hungry?” he asks because no matter that he wants to keep Tony in line, he needs something to _do_.

“I could eat,” Banner says mildly, giving him a slightly surprised look.

“I want a feast. Cocktails all around,” Tony adds.

“Sure, I’ll get right to that.” Steve rolls his eyes as he sets the tablet down and adjusts the communicator in his ear. “I’ll be back as soon as I figure out where the mess is. Don’t get into trouble, you two. I mean it.”

“Yes, _Dad_.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Thank you, Captain Rogers.”

Steve heads out. He breathes a little easier in the halls than he does in the tiny, windowless rooms. Maybe if he’d gone Navy instead of Army things might be different, but he kind of hates boats a lot. He doesn’t get sea sick or anything (anymore) but he’s never liked how cramped everything is, even on an expensive rig like this one, or the way it keeps moving under him. Planes aren’t that much better, really, but he didn’t tend to be in those long.

He does a little wandering before finally asking someone for some directions. The mess is centrally located a deck down so Steve makes his way there and then he gets stuck for a while because it turns out SHIELD did not skimp when it came to the food. He’s not sure what Banner or Tony would want out of this selection, having figured there might be one or two options maximum, so he frets over things for a while before just telling the server to do up three random trays. When he mentions one is for Banner, the server pauses, checks something on her screen, and then says something about “dietary requirements” to someone else, who completely changes what he’d been fixing up.

Steve eventually ends up with three covered trays (one of them coded blue, specifically for Banner) but he’s not at all sure what’s under them. He tries to think of it as an adventure, but he’s got a ridiculous amount of resentment for how much everything has changed, right down to military food. Then again, he’d been on war rations so who’s to say that in times of peace soldiers hadn’t eaten well?

By the time he gets back to the lab, he’s slightly surprised nothing’s blown up in his absence, but he pauses at the open door at the sound of Banner’s voice.

“-and it gets better,” Banner says with an odd gentleness to his voice, which is the reason Steve finds his body going still. There’s an intimate nature to that kind of tone, something private and soft.

“You _say_ that-” Tony starts, but Banner interrupts him.

“I know it.”

There’s a pause and then Tony gives a little snort that sounds more bitter than amused. “Says the guy who turns into a giant green rage monster.”

“Says the boy that has barely even begun living,” Banner shoots back without anger. “I won’t tell you how to feel, but when you’re older- when you’re _distanced_ , it gets better. You can make it better.”

“By what, forgetting?”

“No. By realizing what he did to you wasn’t your fault in the first place.”

Steve backs up farther down the hall. He doesn’t know the details of what they’re talking about but he doesn’t need to. What he wants to do is rush in and get them both to spill all their secrets so he can fix it all, but he’s pretty sure neither would. Especially not Tony. Not when Tony threw up his defenses towards anyone and everything – except Banner, apparently, and Steve would never have believed it if he hadn’t just heard them. Besides, it’s not his business unless one of them wants to make it that way and the fact that they’d spoken of something so personal when he wasn’t there? Makes it obvious they don’t want him in the loop.

There is something painful in both of them that is the same, something they must have recognized in one another. It’s an enormous invasion of their privacy to have heard this much, so Steve turns and does a short lap around part of the ship before he heads back. The trays in his hands are half cold by the time he gets in but Banner and Tony have finished talking, so he thinks it’s worth it.

Tony complains about cold chicken, but he wolfs it down anyway like a starving man.

\----

The day is long and a little boring. Steve gets periodic updates on how Banner is doing with the Tesseract tracking (not well, but he’s isolated the specific thing he’s looking for. It’s just unlikely they’ll find it even if they search for a year, apparently.) Tony somehow makes the colors on Steve’s tablet invert at random, which is mildly annoying, especially when the text turns neon green on top of a purple background at one point, which he does after Steve tells him for the tenth time that no, he is not to “assist” Banner in his work. Tony’s pretty put out but Banner seems comforted by how firm Steve is about it.

That does leave Tony to whatever he’s doing on that laptop of his, but Steve figures that’s an acceptable risk. At least until Fury complains to Steve over the comm. unit, “Tell Stark to stay the hell out of our archives. If he wants to know about Howard so bad, I’ll put together a comprehensive file myself.”

Tony snorts when Steve tells him, obviously not believing him, but there aren’t any more complaints from the Director after that. Tony also refuses to talk about what he’s looking for. His apparent desperation to find out more about his grandfather isn’t so strange if you think about it as a kid who never met him due to being hidden away by his parents (that’s the best theory Steve’s been able to come up with, anyway,) but it’s frustrating that he won’t ask for help or at least tell them what he needs to know. Steve’d be more than happy to help, even if his own information is decades too old. Tony doesn’t ask, violently opposes being questioned, so there’s not much Steve can do except wait and hope the kid will lighten up a bit.

Nearing evening, Natasha gives a short, terse warning that she’s going to interrogate Loki but that’s all Steve hears for a good quarter hour. And then, abruptly, she reports, “ _Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab. I’m on my way. Send Thor as well.”_

Steve’s on his feet a second later. Both Tony and Banner glance his way, but neither of them are patched into the comm. grid. Steve goes to the door and waits there, wanting no one but their authorized few getting inside.

“What’s going on?” Tony asks but Banner just has a grim look on his face as he stares Steve down steadily. Steve glances between him and Tony. The lab is pretty safe, but Banner isn’t. Not if Loki has some plan to trick him into the other guy.

“I think-” Steve begins, but before he can finish, Thor’s striding inside. He looks focused and ready, every muscle coiling in wait for whatever his brother may have in store for them. Steve doesn’t exactly trust the guy (he’s an _alien_ for Christ’s sake) but it’s nice to have a little backup if something goes wrong. Steve feels twitchy inside, like something’s building up and waiting to burst. He hates waiting. He likes meeting his enemies close up.

“The Lady Widow has requested my presence,” Thor says, in explanation of his presence when both Banner and Tony look at him in confusion.

“Is there something I should know?” Banner murmurs, eyes flitting between Steve and their new visitor.

“Loki has foul plans in store for you, Banner. I will not allow them to reach fruition.” Thor stands taller and somehow seems even bigger than he was before. Steve thinks it’s ridiculous how big Asgardians are. “It is my duty as both a protector of your world and kin to him.”

Tony stares at them. “Wait, _our_ world? Are you an alien or something?”

“Something like that, it’s all very interesting and relevant right now,” Steve mutters, a bit exasperated and Tony stills a bit before his expression goes carefully neutral, with is even more irritating every time it happens.

“If he escapes this prison-” Thor begins.

“When,” Natasha interrupts as she arrives next. She glances at each of them before settling on Thor. “ _When_ he escapes, and it’s very likely he had an out before he let us capture him, but we’ll handle it. You should probably take Stark to a more secure room, Rogers.”

Steve nods, but Tony makes a sound of disgusted outrage. “Are you nuts? No way am I letting you hide me away from all this. I can _help_ -”

“You can help by not being a liability,” she retorts, voice firm and unkind, but it does the trick. Tony goes shocked silent and then turns to glare down at his laptop.

“This is such crap…”

Natasha turns to Steve and while he feels a little guilty about it, she’s right. He can’t be worrying about Tony _and_ Loki. What is his life.

“So his plan is to bring out the other guy?” Banner murmurs, lip curling a bit with how little he likes the idea. “How does that help anything?”

“He may have devised a way to direct your alter self.” Thor folds his arms across his chest and somehow it comes across less aggressive and more contemplative.

“Now that’s a scary thought.” Banner shakes his head. “If that’s it, you should drop me in the Antarctic. Bomb me from above where no one else gets hurt.”

Steve scowls at him, heckles risen. “Now just wait a minute. Don’t think I’m going to authorize murder like that.”

“You can’t kill me.” Banner’s mouth is a tight, bitter smile, all pinched edges and teeth. “I know, I’ve tried.”

Things pause there as all eyes go to Banner. He swallows once but stands his ground, owning up to his past actions with a strength Steve isn’t sure he’d have in the same situation. “I got low. I didn’t see an end. So I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out. Believe me when I tell you, Rogers: you could hit me with a nuke and I’d probably be up and running again within a day.”

Steve isn’t sure what to deal with first. The fact that Banner had attempted suicide, survived it, or the determined look on his face, grimly willing to face whatever Steve, or SHIELD, could unleash on him. He finds himself stuck on the first. “You all right these days?”

Banner blinks, like he’s honestly surprised that Steve would ask, but then he just shrugs a little as his shoulders hunch up and he glances away.

“I moved on. I focused on helping other people.” He scratches into his hair a bit, shaking his head. “I’ve been doing pretty good. Believe me, I’m not trying to use you in some kind of assisted suicide plot.”

Because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s taking the idea under consideration because he’s kind of an asshole, Steve turns towards Tony and then starts a bit at the murderous look the kid is giving him.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Tony snarls with righteous indignity. “You are not bombing the only person I’ve ever met that could match me since my old man.”

Steve sighs a little. “Come on, Tony. You need to be somewhere safe. We’ll talk later.”

“I’m not leaving if you’re all in on this stupid contingency plan for-”

And then they’re all rocked as the ship lists hard to one side. Steve belatedly hears some kind of explosion behind that and then fire bursts up from the drainage grating underneath their feet. Steve’s knocked back and hits the ground as most of the grating and part of the solid floor gives under half the room. The fire is short lived heat and he’s rolling up to his feet before he’s registered it’s gone.

He doesn’t see Tony.

“Report!” he yells out even as the comm. unit in his ear gets taken over by Hill.

“ _External detonation. Engine is down. We’ve been hit._ ”

“ _Can you get it running again?”_ Fury, taking over, good.

“ _Reporting extensive damage to the engine. We’re dead in the water, sir_.”

Steve tunes it out after that because he’s got more important things to deal with right now because he _doesn’t see Tony_.

“ _This is Romanov_ ,” interrupts the steady feed in Steve’s ear and he’s glad that the Avengers exclusive channel is overriding the rest. “ _Banner and Stark are with me. Alive. Stark’s unconscious but breathing. Banner’s… We’re okay. We’re okay, right?_ ”

“Oh god,” Steve whispers and then he takes the hall at a dead run, trying to remember the schematic of the carrier so he can find the fastest route down. “Romanov, how far did you fall?”

“ _At least a deck- Doctor?_ ” There’s just the faintest grunting he can make out, which means it has to be loud for him to get anything, and there’s too much smoke for him to see down the hole. “ _Bruce? You’ve got to fight it. This is just what Loki wants._ ”

“Get Tony out of there!”

“ _We’re going to be okay. Listen to me._ ” She sounds terrified and that same terror is magnifying in Steve. “ _We’re going to be okay. All right?_ ”

Steve takes a set of tight stairs three at a time and then leaps over the railing for the next flight. “Romanov!”

“ _I swear on my life, I will get you out of this. You will walk away, and never-_ ”

“ _YOUR LIFE?!_ ”

Steve hasn’t known Banner long but the distorted tone of his voice, the loudness, the utter aggression in it makes his chest clench with abject terror. He’s changing, has to be, and _Tony is down there_.

“ _Bruce?_ ”

And then he hears it, a snarl of concentrated, unrestrained rage. He stumbles on the last steps, nearly topples, but manages to catch himself even though his heart is pounding so hard he can barely breathe. “ROMANOV!”

“ _Drawing his attention. Left Stark behind. Hulk’s following me_ ,” she says breathlessly half a minute later and Steve doesn’t know if he wants to hit her or kiss her for it.

“ _Cap, we need some heavy muscle back here!_ ” Fury calls suddenly and Natasha hisses a sharp, “ _Go! I’ve got this._ ”

Steve knows that the best thing he can do is end the attack quickly and then go after Tony. He curses when he does exactly that, as if doing so is some kind of betrayal. He meets up with Fury and a SHIELD team to help get the injured out of the engine area. The back side of the carrier is a mess of twisted metal and burning fires and Steve finds fewer pulses than he likes.

The whole place rocks with another explosion going off elsewhere. He hears the constant feed about taking on water, extensive injuries, and barks an order for one of the agents to go find Tony in the rooms directly under Banner’s lab before something terrible happens. It doesn’t absolve him of guilt, but he doesn’t have time for that anyway, especially not when half a dozen guys in tactical gear come at them from nowhere.

Dodging under a wild swing, Steve cuffs the edge of the shield against the guy’s chest and it may be his imagination but he thinks he hears ribs collapsing. He doesn’t let it bother him, keeps with the momentum to twist around and dodge bullets he hasn’t been paying attention to, and then brings the shield to bear against another one.

The boat lists again as someone reports Thor going after the Hulk, and Steve is half convinced they’re all going to drown in the middle of the ocean, but he’s got too much to think about when a new guy joins in out of nowhere and turns a weapon on him that glows blue and familiar in a way that chills him to the bone. It hits just as hard as the Hydra weapons he remembers and Steve’s knocked back a few steps with the wind driven from his lungs, pain streaking through him like a flash instead of a single, concentrated point. The armor in his uniform absorbs a lot but it still takes a few seconds to catch his breath back.

“ _Shit_ \- I mean damn- I mean-” some younger agent babbles behind him and then gives up with a frustrated groan. “They’ve found the Phase Two weapons cache, Director!”

Steve has no idea what that means because he’s concentrating on blocking the next shots with his shield and shouts for Fury’s men, the ones still up and able, to take cover. Something tells him “Phase Two” is a thing he should remember later. Right now, he’s got to keep these men alive. He can take a couple blasts and not die. He’s not so sure about them. Fury’s snarling over the comm. to lock down all areas of import and Steve starts trying to hit people again.

“ _Control room hit! Massive structural damage! Levels two and three are dark. The Hulk is ripping us apart!_ ”

“Get his attention,” Fury snarls as he catches one of the strike team in the head and the guy goes down.

 

Everything seems to be happening so fast and Steve can’t take the time to think much, even when some panicked, idiot pilot is screaming about the Hulk (“ _Target angry! Target angry!”)_ and then Hill reports that Hulk’s gone AWOL somewhere off ship (how the _hell_ does that even happen?!).

“ _Nav- no, all systems down. It’s Barton. He took out everything. He’s heading for the detention level. Does anybody copy?”_

“ _This is Agent Romanov. I copy.”_

Another thing someone else is handling. Steve lets it fall from his mind.All he knows is destroying the ridiculously tough group of people in front of him who seem to be able to take as much as Steve can himself, only to keep on coming.

\----

Agent Bartley Connell is having a bad day.

It’s the kind of bad day that gets him slapped with suspension for dereliction of duty because some snot nosed kid can’t do as he’s told. It’s the kind of bad day that has pretty much tanked all his hopes for advancement. The kind of bad day that would result in getting him fired if not for the fact that he works for a shadowy government organization that can’t afford the risk of him giving up their secrets.

(They won’t kill him, he keeps telling himself. SHIELD is the good guys and he isn’t a threat to National Security. They’ll just bury him somewhere under piles of paperwork.)

All in all, Connell does not believe he deserves this and it is all Tony Stark’s fault. He hopes he never has to see that brat again. If he’s lucky, Fury will ship him off to do desk work at one of the less sensitive offices. Maybe the one in Austin. He hears there’s a pool attached to the fitness center.

He thinks maybe if he plays his cards right, lays low long enough, this might blow over. He’ll never work near Director Fury again but that’s okay. He never much liked the spotlight anyway.

And then the alarms start and they’re being attacked. Connell’s off duty but he’s been trained to deal with these situations and immediately heads to check the engines when he feels the ship list. Except they don’t _have_ engines anymore and he’s being hustled to the weapons caches until freaking Captain America needs someone to go fetch that _stupid goddamn brat._ Connell gets the short straw, mostly because the next ranking person he meets doesn’t have time to do it and he is a lowly support agent, and also his life sucks.

So now Connell is stuck sifting through broken pipes and spurts of boiling hot steam and is probably going to die any moment when the _Hulk_ shows up because that is his luck. That is his goddamn luck.

And then he turns a corner and the Asgardian Loki is at the other end of the half broken hall with that damn kid hanging limp under one arm. Loki doesn’t notice him, too intent on something the other direction. There’s blood in Stark’s hair and he’s practically boneless in Loki’s grip. Connell stares a moment while he decides what to do.

He could just go the other way. Guys like him have a bad track record of dying when it comes to Loki. And he doesn’t really care what happens to Stark except in the most abstract sense (he’s not a _monster._ ) No one would know and no one would question him. He could…

Connell sighs a little and draws his weapon. Good bye nice desk job without the risk of getting shot at every single day. Good bye fitness center pool. He aims carefully, drawing every bit of marksmanship training he’s ever had, and then shifts away from the headshot because criminal or no, he’s read the file on Loki and he knows that SHIELD can’t risk killing him and inciting a possible war with Asgard.

He takes the shot. Leather bursts as the first bullet hits home in the left shoulder. Disabling shot, weakens his grip immediately and Stark hits the ground in a limp pile. He sees red begin to trickle free and then Loki is twisting around and Connell fires again and-

And…

Connell is on the ground. He’s not quite sure how that happened. Suddenly he’s not… thinking very well.

He’s just

really

 _tired_.

\----

By the time the strike team is either put down or manages to escape, Loki is long gone. Steve kind of expected that after all was said and done. He didn’t quite bank on having to retrieve Thor from inside the Hulk cell, which had at some point been jettisoned into the deep. Thankfully, it held up to his attempt at escaping it long enough for Thor to realize what kind of depths he’d already gone to. It’s likely the pressure would have killed him, had he managed to puncture the reinforced walls, Asgardian resilience or not.

He didn’t expect Clint to be recaptured, but at least that’s more fortuitous over everything that went wrong.

Steve’s tired and bruised and his shoulder is trying to give out on him from all the fighting when he hasn’t been doing much but beating the hell out of sandbags the last couple weeks. He’ll be fine with a good night’s rest, sure, but right now he feels kind of miserable. For their part, SHIELD just concentrates on sorting out their dead to storage so they can bring them back to shore, and getting people with a pulse to medical, which has been expanded into the halls and nearby rooms due to the influx of patients. Anyone with a bit of medical experience is helping out like it’s nothing. They’re trained well, Steve will give them that.

Hill is still getting a final headcount of her people, but Steve checks out his own. Natasha gives him an update on Clint, something about breaking conditioning and a mindfucking hangover (he finds himself enjoying her language because about the only person other than her willing to cuss in front of him without wincing is Fury. He is not entirely sure why that keeps happening.) Banner’s AWOL but SHIELD promises another crew is working on tracking him down again to make sure the Hulk doesn’t cause too much collateral damage. Thor’s on duty helping SHIELD clear out wreckage. He even bumps into Coulson who’s harried and busy overseeing everything under the sun but seems all right past a few bruises.

The one he can’t find is Tony and no one’s seen him since the floor collapsed. Steve combs through the decks beneath Banner’s lab, sifting through rubble and busted pipes. Pulls out a couple stunned, groggy agents and sends them on to medical. He ends up coming upon Agent Connell, who’s hurt bad but still breathing. Steve carries him to safety despite his dislike of the man and Connell wakes about the time they get him on a table, pained and half delirious, but he grabs Steve’s wrist in an iron grip despite it.

“I got him,” the man gasps out, blinking hard. “I _got_ him.”

“Sure.” Steve tugs his hand, not wanting to hurt him, but he’s got a job to do.

“No, no, I- _fuck_ that hurts- did you find him?”

“Who?

“ _Loki_. I got-” Connell shudders as a doctor injects him with something and immediately begins relaxing down, his grip loosening. “I shot him.”

Steve’s brows lift to his hairline. “You-”

“I got him. I saw it.” Connell blinks a bit more, trying to clear his head, but the sedative is quickly knocking him out. “Tried to take the kid but I got him.”

Steve freezes. Connell mutters about the kid again but he’s losing coherency fast, not that he had a lot of it to begin with. Steve steps away and immediate taps his ear piece.

“Hill! I need video recordings of Loki leaving-”

“ _A little busy here!”_ she growls back. “ _The system’s trashed anyway, some kind of virus, I don’t even know if we’d have anything-”_

“He may have taken Tony! I need confirmation!” Steve snarls at her and there’s a long pause before she gives a frustrated huff.

“ _I’ll put someone on it, but no promises.”_

He wants to demand more but the place is in shambles around him. Grimly, Steve realizes Tony has to be gone or he would have found him already.  And they have no way of finding him now, not with the way Banner’s lab went down in the attack and with it any hope of tracking the cube. He goes back there anyway and isn’t really surprised that the staff is gone, too.

It takes hours before everyone is accounted for, every deck has been searched inch by inch, and the full accounting of the damage has been made. Their engineers are working nonstop to jury rig enough of an engine to get them going again. There’s a quiet, rolling fury in the crew over the whole thing. Being attacked and so thoroughly put down, with one of their own leading it? SHIELD’s not happy at all.

Steve helps where he can, mostly trying to distract himself. He fetches things for the engineers and along the way bumps into Coulson again, who’s got a phone to his ear and manages not to look as stressed as he probably is.

“Please slow down,” Coulson sighs out, giving Steve a terse smile as he passes. “Take a few deep breaths and explain to me slowly.”

He figures there’s no reason to listen in so he keeps going, but then something in Coulson’s words catches him short.

“Green and black leather?” Steve stops and looks back. Coulson’s face has gone calculating and his smile evens out. “Yes, thank you, Miss Potts. I will have a team to you within the hour. Remain calm and don’t let on that you know anything. The best thing you can do is lie low. Put my number on speed dial. If anything should happen, dial it. If I don’t hear you, I’ll know to send a strike team in. You’re welcome, Miss Potts. I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up and before Steve can say anything, he’s tapped his ear patch. “Director Fury, I know where Loki and the cube are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man this one whooped me. I am so bad at action. I probably rewrote every word of it. Also, figuring out how this could go without Iron Man? In a *boat*? Why do I do this to myself.
> 
> On the plus side, you guys are mad wicked encouragement to keep working on this XD So thank you


	7. Kicked in the Teeth

Pepper Potts is a nervous woman. She always has been and probably always will be. Even when she’s fully in her element, when she’s got a foolproof plan, when she’s got no reason to doubt her success, she’s still nervous.

Today, she’s nervous because she’s pretty sure she’s going to die before sun down.

Pepper swallows at the lump in her throat, doing her best to keep the nervousness from showing on her face. Hiding her feelings and working through them is part of why she’s lasted this long as CEO Obadiah Stane’s executive assistant at Stane International, when her predecessors had all been fired within the first year. Well, that and the fact that she’s very, very good at her job.

The problem with being good at your job is that sometimes you take the initiative to look under the surface, double check the work of others, cross reference everything for accuracy. Pepper likes being sure and Stane always appreciates her thoroughness. He would probably appreciate less that one year ago, she’d uncovered proof he’s been double dealing under the table to militant groups in the Middle East.

At first, she thought this might be some kind of ploy by Morgan Stark to usurp the company by discrediting Stane, since she got the tip off from him. He’s been a thorn in her side the entire time she’s worked for Stane and to be honest, she has no idea why Stane keeps him around, much less lets him head most of their European interests, when he has such a fanatical determination to take over the company completely. However, when the tip led her through a myriad of strange accounting shifts and project files even her clearance level couldn’t access, she started to realize that just because Stark had been the one to bring it up didn’t mean something _wasn’t_ going on.

Despite how rattled her nerves got, she hadn’t been able to stop tracking it. She didn’t know who to tell because so many of the leads went straight to the kind of government officials she’d thought to bring this to in the first place, along with law enforcement. For several weeks Pepper had been stuck. She’d continued gathering information, organizing it, keeping it all in her head or written in her own shorthand in notebooks locked up in her apartment. Her therapist kept telling her to quit her job when he’d had to raise the dosage on her anti-anxiety medication twice in six months.  She couldn’t quit, no matter how much she wanted to, because then Stane would know something was up. Pepper knew him better than just about anyone. She wouldn’t make it out of the building after handing in her resignation, if even his office.

And then a man she’d taken to be an investor when she scheduled the meeting calmly told her he knew what she was up to. He’d done it with a smile, too. Thankfully for her, he wasn’t trying to get money out of the company. Agent Phil Coulson took everything she’d gathered and promised to help bust Stane if she could just be patient and not reveal hand just yet.

That was eight months ago. She’d been feeding him new information the whole time and Agent Coulson remained steadfast at her side, reassuring her that his people were working on it. At least until the last month when something he wouldn’t explain had taken most of his attention. She doesn’t know what is more important but she hopes it’s worth it because right now she is standing near Stane’s elbow, calmly taking notes as he meets with a ridiculously terrifying man in blood stained, green and black leather that makes her shiver every time he looks her way.

It is only a slight consolation that the man is not one of Stane’s dubious business partners and instead has the entire building held hostage at gunpoint.

“Miss Potts, if you would please get us something to eat,” Stane says lightly, his voice relaxed despite the three men with assault rifles in their hands standing near the door. If she didn’t know the kind of person he is, she might think he was trying to protect her, give her a reason to escape.(Which she would have believed if she hadn’t been walking on eggshells for the last year.) As it is, she knows he’s just pretending this is perfectly normal. Pepper shifts her weight to take a step when the man in leather lifts his bruised, sick eyes and pins her with a stare. Her chest clenches. She goes utterly still.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says to her smoothly, lips curling into an unkind smile. “I would prefer you to stay exactly where you are.”

Stane glances between them once and there is a sharpness in his eyes, but he gives a slight nod to her, like he is at all in charge right now. She wants to laugh (hysterically) but she doesn’t dare open her mouth.

“All right,” Stane says with a shrug. “I guess we could order something in.”

The next hour, the man in leather (who calls himself Loki of all things) details exactly what he wants from them. Pepper takes meticulous notes because it keeps her calm and in control. She knows they can do what he wants with only a vague difficulty, and just hopes that when it comes down to police involvement, they realize she was not exactly a willing participant. She can’t see a way to interfere without bringing deadly attention onto herself, not yet, but maybe she’ll find a way. Pepper hopes hard she finds one. She doesn’t know who Loki is or what he’s done, but she knows his type. She has dealt with his type all her life.

When he finally leaves the office, two of his armed men stay behind and Pepper shivers under their gazes.

“This is going to put a crimp in things. The media fallout when it comes out is going to be ridiculous,” Stane says blandly, his lips twisted into an unhappy knit they always get to at the prospect of trouble or losing money. He gets up from his desk and gives a glance to her. “You get everything down?”

“Yes, Mr. Stane.”

“Good. Now I don’t want you doing anything that could get you hurt. You hear me, Potts? You keep your head down. You do what they say. You get out of this in one piece.”

Pepper swallows hard and nods. It’s nice to hear the concern, even if Stane’s more worried about having to replace her later. Stane straightens his suit jacket and then starts calling to the various departments to get them moving on Loki’s demands while Pepper carefully organizes the new schedule, begins ordering, and then starts wording apologies to anyone she can think of.

Its hours before Pepper finds herself alone in her small office. She doesn’t know how long it’ll last and she’s terrified someone will look in on her any second, but Pepper still pulls out her phone and dials Agent Coulson’s number. If anyone can possibly help her, help all of them, it’ll be him. The moment his voice comes on the line, she starts thinking that maybe she’ll get out of this alive.

\----

Stane International’s New York office is a ridiculously big, ugly building that has absolutely no class or style, at least as far as Steve can see. It stands like a beacon of ugliness to the rest of the city with its high tower and then more modest, wider base. He’s not sure what to think of Loki apparently targeting the place, especially when he’d had to pick up Tony from here only a week or two ago (and now he’s feeling even worse about not following up on why Tony wanted in there in the first place.)

From the building across the street where they’d commandeered half a floor much to the chagrin of several architects who rented the space, Steve stares through binoculars to study the goings on inside. The first thing he notices is that it seems to be business as usual for most of the building, but closer to the top he starts finding armed guards. The guards aren’t stupid, staying out of obvious sight lines, but Steve catches them when they change position or by watching the frightened way several people act.

He doesn’t see Tony, Selvig, or even Loki, but he has to hope they’re around. He has to.

“Found Potts,” Coulson says from beside him. “Tenth floor from the top. She’s with Stane. Both are unharmed.”

An agent behind them notes it down and sends word to the infiltration team. Steve doesn’t know much about Pepper Potts except that she’s been helping Coulson on a national security issue, but he hopes they get her out okay. Obadiah Stane, he knows even less about except that he runs the place.

“How could this company help Loki?” Steve asks, taking his eyes from the building, because he has been honestly confused about this the whole time.

“Stane International is a weapons manufacturer for the most part, but they also dabble in various other technologies.” Coulson calls out another big name that Steve doesn’t recognize but that the other agent notes down dutifully before continuing. “One of those technologies is called the Arc Reactor. Howard Stark created it in the sixties with another scientist but nothing’s come of it yet. The reactor is supposed to be a clean burning energy source that might revolutionize the world someday and Stane’s continued Howard’s work on it.”

“High density energy?” Steve guesses and Coulson smiles.

“That’s the idea. Last I got any intel though, it keeps burning through cores too fast to be sustainable, but it might last long enough to give Loki the power source he needs. Especially if he’s able to patch into the city grid to boost it somehow.”

Steve shakes his head a little, feeling sick that something of Howard’s might get used for Loki’s war. He looks back at SI and takes a breath.

“So I get what he needs Selvig for. But why did he take Tony?”

“Stark’s a genius. I think we can all agree on that. Maybe Loki thinks he can use that.”

Even though he knows it would be the wrong decision, Steve wants to prioritize finding the kid. He doesn’t (duty has never felt so very heavy) and instead asks for an update from the teams.

They needs to pinpoint Loki sooner than later-

“Got him,” one of the snipers says. “Target just walked into Stane’s office. No clear shot.”

“Keep watch,” Coulson says sharply as Steve turns to join the distraction team. It’s only a matter of time.

\----

Tony snaps his eyes open the second he’s conscious. He twists, rolling right off the plush leather couch he’d been laid on and to his feet. The room he’s in looks like a cross between a meeting room and a lounge. There are chairs everywhere and a few tables that look to be part of a set, easily put together for a longer one. The decorations are posh and professional and he’s reminded uneasily of his father’s taste, or at least what he made the world think was his taste.

All in all, it’s nothing like SHIELD and he has no idea where he is. He walks over to the huge windows spanning the entirety of one wall. Outside is a cityscape that isn’t completely familiar to him and a dizzying height he’d never survive falling. The building doesn’t even have any dubiously useful ledges he could maybe use to get to another room, if that were a thing he was willing to do (it isn’t.)

Tony checks the door and finds it locked. He presses his ear to it and beyond, there are people passing hurriedly, a few words he can’t quite catch the shapes of. He considers yelling for help but doesn’t really think anyone outside would really help. Besides, Tony Stark does not ask for help.

He draws back and looks up. There’s a vent cover along one wall and Tony palms his pocket, finds his screwdriver still there. Good. First step, get the hell out of here, where they know he’s stashed. After that, he’ll find a computer somewhere out of the way, find out where he is, and figure out how to contact SHIELD to come get him. Might as well use the jackboots for something useful.

He grabs an overstuffed armchair to drag it over to the other wall and climbs onto it. The vent is just barely in his reach. He has to stretch all the way to start on the screws-

“Don’t.”

Tony freezes and his heart seizes as he recognizes the voice. He slowly turns, stepping down to the floor against and turning the screwdriver in his grip to give him more solid stabbing power. Get it between the ribs or jab the jugular just right and-

“You are perplexing, Tony Stark,” Loki says. He sits in a chair across the room that hadn’t been there a moment before, the leather coat he’d been wearing before gone. Under it is an open leather vest that looks to be armored in some way and then a looser, dark green tunic that opens wide at the throat. The tunic is stained red most of the way down one sleeve. Loki curls a hand over the shoulder and it glows with wisps of green that Tony instinctually doesn’t like. He can’t calculate how to take Loki down and his mind keeps stuttering to a stop when he tries. He doesn’t understand magic.

“What do you want with me?” Tony murmurs as his muscles instinctively coil, like his body is getting ready to do something stupid like jump the guy.

“I want to know how far you were sent.”

Tony blinks, not understanding at first, and Loki makes a sharp tsking sound. “Don’t be stupid, Stark. I can taste the temporal magics riding your flesh. The energy sunk into your very marrow is my own. _How far?_ ”

“Okay, that is _super_ creepy. Has anyone ever told you how creepy you are?”

Loki smiles. He rises from his chair, letting go of his shoulder. As he reaches out a hand, the glowing staff Dr. Banner had been working on materializes in his hand. Tony flinches back before he can stop himself and then he’s against the wall with nowhere to run.

“How far were you sent?” Loki purrs as he takes a slow step forward and then another, violence in every inch of his body.

Tony swallows back his fear as best he can. He’s fine. Stark men don’t ask for help because they can stand on their own. He’s fine. “Oh, you know, just a hop, skip, and a jump-”

The staff flashes menacingly and Tony squeezes his eyes shut a moment.

“Okay, so maybe it was twenty-eight years, minus a few months. Well, that’s in human years. I don’t know how it works for weird Norse alien guys. And then there’s the couple days I lost at the beginning being delirious.”

“I see. How strange. I wonder why I it is that I sent you, and at such an arbitrary distance. How long it will be into my own future that I would have done so, were the effort now moot on my part..?” Loki touches his face, tapping his long fingers along his lips and chin with thoughtful contemplation. “How did you see me, boy?”

Looking over the bloodstained, amused, psychotic man in front of him, there’s not much of him in the man Tony remembers from the day he’d disappeared. He can see similarities in the face, the same coloring, but the man who had ranted to him unintelligibly and then touched him with green fire that burned all the way to bone held none of the smug confidence this one did. Only age and a desperation that had scared Tony in its intensity.

“A hobo, mostly,” Tony says flippantly and then his feet stop being anchored and there is a hand like steel holding him up against the cold metal wall, clamped so tight he can barely breath. Loki leans in so close that Tony can count the individual hairs in his brows, can see with startling detail every red vein in his eyes and every shift of color in the bruised skin around them. He claws at that huge, firm hand but there’s no chance he’ll dislodge it. No chance he can save himself. _Game over_.

“I would have you tell me every word,” Loki hisses low and dangerous, like a knife against his guts. “Tell me, Stark, or I will not hesitate to leave this mystery to rest along with your life. I do not love myself so much to waste my time on things I have not yet done and may never do.”

“He didn’t say much!” Tony spits out, grabbing hold of Loki’s arm to try and pull himself up, take a bit of the pressure of his neck and jaw. “A bunch of crazy stuff-”

“ _Word for word_.”

The steel like fingers tighten and suddenly Tony can’t breathe at all. He claws at them, kicking with his feet, but Loki might as well be stone for all it does. The edges of his vision start to dark and get fuzzy and his body feels so _heavy._ And then he’s dropped, crumpling down on the floor into coughing, wheezing pile.

“You’re fucking nuts, you know that?!” Tony manages between coughing. His throat feels shredded ragged and bruised already and he knows it’ll be worse later. He’s felt this before.

“Now, Stark. My patience spreads thin.”

Tony swallows a few times, trying to ease the burn in his throat, but it does nothing. He lifts his gaze back to Loki, shivering at the intent way the man stares back at him.

“He said… He said the man I become destroys everything,” Tony finally rasps out and suddenly everything is coming in a rush, everything he’s been keeping so tight inside him because he didn’t want anyone to know. “He said I’m the one who stands between Earth and a favorable outcome. He said it was my fault everything goes to ruin and he couldn’t kill me but he had to change the version of me that gets involved. He said I- that I...”

Tony fights the hollowness in his chest but it still takes him several moments before he can bite out the last words. “He said I’m the one that kills Captain America.”

It feels as raw in his chest as it does in his throat. Tony stares at Loki, refusing to let himself look away. Refusing to run from it. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do other than that one act, how he ruins everything, but he’s always known he’d be a failure as a son. Might as well be a failure as a man, too. He can almost feel his father’s words like a tattoo against his back.

Loki says nothing for a long while, considering the words and what they might mean. Tony doesn’t care about that, or the burning shame inside him that someone else knows. Someone else knows it’s going to be all his fault because whatever the future version of Loki thought, Tony knows he’ll mess up worse than his older self ever dreamed.

“Can you send me back?” he finds himself asking, even though there’s no reason to think Loki would do him a favor. All it does is bring Loki’s laser focus back onto him. “I want to- well, you sent me here in the first place, right? You can do it?”

Loki taps the edge of his staff as he considers it. “Time travel is a risky business to begin with. It expends consider energy with little in the way of measurable return. No. If I engineered your presence here, it is to my own ends, whatever they may be.”

“Please!” Tony manages to get to his feet, even though he’s shaky and still dizzy from nearly passing out. “Please, just- If I’m there, maybe I can stop things. Maybe I can- _I just want to save my parents._ ”

He didn’t actually mean to say that and Tony feels as stunned as Loki suddenly looks because that shouldn’t even be the most important thing. The madman is still and quiet, staring at him like what he said has a million different meanings he has to sift through.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Tony offers with growing desperation because now that he’s said it aloud, now that he’s thinking about that, it’s all he wants. “I’ll help you, anything. Just send me back. Let me save them. I know I would have if you hadn’t sent me here in the first place.”

“Interesting,” Loki finally mutters, but he still seems almost haunted. “You would betray your world for the chance that you presence might make a difference in a past that is far behind us.”

“Not for me. It’s not far away for me.”

Tony spent over a month alone in this strange future before SHIELD caught him. His parents had been alive one day and then a decade dead the next. There is no amount of distance he could hope to have.

“What use could a child be to me?” Loki asks finally, more curious than lethal.

“I can help your scientist, Selvig. I can help with the portal. The machine’s not stable yet, is it? You need another pair of hands, another mind-”

“A _child’s_ mind?”

“A genius’s mind with an eidetic memory and a penchant for learning functional knowledge overnight.”

Loki’s eyes narrow with contemplation. Tony doesn’t look away.

“Tell me what I have to do,” he says instead. “And then send me home.”

“And why should I not simply take your mind for my own?” Loki questions with a gesture towards the staff, but Tony can tell by the tone he’s not invested in the answer.

“Because you think I’ll entertain you this way.” Tony stands taller, more sure. “You think I’ll fail to be anything but a nuisance and then when I inevitably fail, you’ll get the chance to ground it into me. It’s not like I’m a threat to you.”

Tony knows men like Loki. And he sees it when curious amusement wins out.

“Very well. I shall take that bet, Stark. Should you prove valuable to my efforts, I will consider putting in the effort to return you to your own time.”

“I want a promise,” Tony grounds out stubbornly and Loki smiles.

“You would trust the word of the Liesmith?”

“I trust that your word means something to _you_.”

Loki considers that and then nods. “My word, as well as you can trust that, but do heed a warning, Stark. Should you betray me, my wrath will not be sated by simply denying your request.”

“I’m kind of used to worse.”

Loki shimmers and his coat reforms over his body, covering the bloodied shoulder as if nothing had happened. Then again, Tony has the suspicion that the light show before had been some kind of healing mumbo-jumbo anyway.  

“Come, then. Let us see how amusing you can be.”

\----

R&D is a section Pepper stays fairly familiar with. Though Stane often checks up with the various teams on their projects himself, he more often delegates that to Pepper in favor of board meetings and the like. She knows the project leaders on sight, often arranges for meals to be sent regularly because it is almost a given that most of the researchers and engineers can’t keep track of time worth a damn, and organizes project requests and the like for Stane. So she notices right off when there is a new face in area 12, and even more she notices his sick looking blue eyes and the grin on his face that boarders manic.

More than a few of the researchers give her worried looks, but Pepper waves them off. They need to keep working or the armed guards littering the place might get trigger happy. Pepper approaches the man cautiously, studying the way he works on some kind of attachment on the huge Arc Reactor prototype. She doesn’t have a clue what this man, who must be one of Loki’s, would want with it.

“Sir?” she asks finally and the man jerks his head up to stare at her. There is something… not quite there about his eyes. It makes fear coil in her belly. “Hello. I’m Pepper Potts, Mr. Stane’s assistant. And you are…”

“Busy!” he pipes up but then just looks back at his work. His fingers work confidently and swiftly, even as he continues, “Dr. Erik Selvig.”

“Dr. Selvig, may I ask what-”

“I don’t have time for that. I need to get this _done_. We’re going to bring about a glorious change to the entire world!”

Pepper takes a slow, calming breath the way she usually does for overly ambitious inventers trying to get funding for terrible ideas. “All right. If there is anything you need, please let me know.”

He makes an affirmative sound and Pepper turns to one of the regulars, Dobson, leaning in close.

“Watch him,” she murmurs as Dobson’s eyes meet hers. “I want to know what he’s doing to the reactor and if there’s any significant signs of explosiveness. Of _any_ kind.”

He nods, giving Selvig a wide eyed glance, then asks, “The boy, too?”

“What boy?”

Dobson glances at the armed guards before he leads her around to the other side of the reactor and there kneels a boy. He doesn’t look up at them, too concentrated on his work. It seems like he’s doing something similar to Selvig, building onto the base of the reactor and setting up wiring to connect the two. Pepper almost wishes she had the background to understand what exactly he’s doing because right now it looks like a recipe for a bomb.

The boy himself is young, a teenager, and his thin fingers are as comfortable in the wires as Selvig’s. He has dark hair, dark eyes, and some day he’ll be intensely handsome, but right now she sees a tired kid being forced to do dangerous labor by a vicious madman. His throat is a mottled mess of deepening red and there’s a still oozing cut on his forehead, blood gummy in his hair.

She also sees him as the kid who’d broken into SI twice in the last month. After the second time, his picture had been given to the security guards and she’d familiarized herself with it, but she hadn’t really expected to meet him in person.

“Hello,” she says.

The kid pauses and looks at her. He blinks once, almost owlish, and then blurts out, “My god, you have to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and trust me, I used to hang with movie stars.”

It is not at all what she expected. Pepper stares at him as Dobson gives shocked, high pitched laugh. She has absolutely no idea what to do about that or the strange earnestness in his roughened, raspy voice.

“Thank you?” Pepper manages kind of vaguely. “I’m Miss Potts. It… Are you here because of Loki?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much. He’s kind of crazy, you know?” The kid gives his half built add-on an uneasy look. “I don’t think you want to stick around when we’re done. Just so you know. It’d be a shame to lose such a babe.”

Pepper tries to not be so thrown by his flattery. It’s more weird than good. “I… What’s your name?”

“Tony.” He reaches for a small blow torch and she has visions of grievous injuries, especially after a head injury, but his grip is sure with practice competence.

“Tony,” she repeats to steady herself. “I want you to come to me if you need anything. Do you understand?”

“I guess.” He’s distracted, going back into the same kind of working zen she sees so often in the rest of her researchers. His intensity reminds her unfortunately of Morgan, but she tries not to think that. She doubts he’ll hear anything else she says, so she backs off and takes Dobson with her.

“I want Tony to be your priority,” she tells Dobson seriously. “I don’t know what his story is or how he’s tied to Loki, but if he’s at risk, you get him out of here, and yourself. I’ll put someone else on Selvig.”

Dobson nods, glancing back at Tony. “No offense, but I’d kind of already decided on that. You should have seen the way that asshole Loki was going at him earlier. I might have decked him myself if, you know, I didn’t think he’d kill me for it. And… he looks my daughter’s age, that kid.”

Pepper swallows at the reminder and stares at the swaths of red, irritated skin along the kid’s throat. “I’m sending someone from medical to look at him. Keep me informed.”

She heads on to check the other teams but pauses when she hears swift footfalls behind her. She turns and there’s Tony, skidding to a stop in front of her. He digs a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and crams it in her hand.

“If something happens, can you make sure Steve gets this?” he asks, voice low and edge with a regret that makes her hurt inside.

“Steve who?”

“Don’t worry about that. You’ll know him, trust me. He’s hard to miss.”

Pepper isn’t sure how successful she’d be at knowing a particular guy named Steve on sight, but Tony’s ridiculous faith in her seems infinite. He offers her a shaky grin and goes back to his work, not giving her time to respond. Pepper looks at the paper, new but folded a few times and then wadded up in his pocket, then slips it between her clipboard and tablet for safe keeping.

When she gets to her office, she can’t resist her urge to find out what’s written there, if only for some clue as to who this mysterious Steve could be, but all that’s written there in black pen are the words “I’m sorry” and a string of numerical code.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now any new readers are spoiled by the tags, lol. 
> 
> Things are about to get very, very busy. 
> 
> Also, shout out to all you guys leaving kudos and reviewing. You're all really awesome and I am doing my best to answer every one, but sometimes I miss one here or there, sorry!!


	8. Borrowed Time

Steve is not on the infiltration team. He wants to be, wants to ditch the bright blues and get into something a lot more subtle so he can follow Natasha in (so he can find Tony), but Coulson wants him outside, right in front, to get everyone’s attention and stall for the team to get in and handle things. The last time Steve felt so much like a prop was when he’d been selling war bonds and punching out Hitler twice a week.

The thing is, Steve’s not actually the best at listening to orders. People call him a perfect soldier, there are songs and movies and biographies about what an asset he’d been to the Army, the United States, and the World, and back before Loki Clint had showed him a video on his cellphone of some guy in Alabama getting so angry he’d punched someone over the insinuation that Steve was less than the Greatest Man Ever Born and True Son Of God (his mother would have gotten a good laugh out of that), but the truth of the matter is that anyone who’s ever tried to give him an order has had to deal with the fact that Steve tended to ignore things he didn’t think were important in favor of the ones he thought were. He also tended to be right most the time, a fact his superiors hated about as much as they hated him. It had been a shallow sort of hate, more frustration and half an inside joke, but he remembers times the upper echelon went ape shit and threatened to toss him out on his super soldier keister, like when he’d fought to have Morita on his team. He remembers something about Japanese sleeper agents, but the idea had been so insanely hilarious he hadn’t quite known what to say about it at the time. (Now he knows about the camps.)

No one in the future seems to get that or even see him past what history has made of Captain America. They look at him, bark out an order, and expect nothing less than perfect obedience. It’s kind of annoying. Steve is way more used to having his own unit of guys, getting an objective, and planning his own way of doing it. He feels antsy waiting for Coulson or Fury or Hill to come tell him what to do, how to fit into their complicated little plans. Steve isn’t captain of anything anymore and he hadn’t felt it for real until this moment. Behind him are a contingent of agents but he’s not really leading them so much as giving the enemy a bright, shiny target. He’s here to get Loki’s attention and stall him.

Steve hates it even though he really, really wants to punch Loki in the face. He thinks this might even be a fight Bucky wouldn’t have tried to dissuade him from. God, he wishes Bucky were here.

“ _Eyes on Potts again_ ,” Clint calls over the comm., interrupting Steve’s pity party. “ _Twelfth floor, east side heading south. Armed escort. Two goons, big and stupid._ ”

He sounds better than he did when they started this op but not by much. Steve had almost vetoed his involvement but Clint had been vehement about getting a piece of the action and Natasha vouched for him without any doubts. Not that Steve could have really stopped anything because Clint had Fury’s support as well. At least he’s got strict orders to work surveillance only, even if Steve has the feeling that he’ll jump at the chance to let off some arrows.

“ _On route_ ,” Natasha reports, then a few minutes later, “ _Escort eliminated. Potts is in custody_.”

“ _First priority is to extract her from the building, otherwise get her hidden and get any intel she has_ ,” Hill replies and Steve’s belly tightens with anticipation.

“ _Understood_.”

Steve tightens his grip on the shield guards, staring at the building like he might somehow get the power to see through stone if he tries hard enough. He almost wishes that had been in the mix with his strength. The waiting is killing him. The old missions, he hadn’t minded waiting quite as much then because he’d been on top of everything. He’d done the plans, directed the teams, been kept in the loop. These people, SHIELD, work a lot differently. It’s not quite enough for him to wish he was back at war but it’s a close thing.

“ _Potts refuses extraction. She’s made contact with Stark_ ,” Natasha says and Steve can hear the woman with her (“ _Wait, Stark?! That boy is a Stark?!”)_. “ _Stark’s confirmed on the premises. Loki’s got him working with Selvig. No sign of mental tampering from the description but he is recovering from minor injuries. Captain?_ ”

It takes Steve a second to realize she’s talking to him as a brief terror over Tony being injured sweeps through him. “ _Rogers here_.”

“ _Stark gave Potts a message for you. Listen carefully. Does this number mean anything to you? 09013909013909-_ ”

“Wait,” Steve says, frowning at the repetition. He slows it down, putting 090139 on its own in his mind and- Sometimes he’s still surprised at how much faster his mind works after the serum, considering how quickly he manages to drag up old knowledge. “It’s a _date_. September 1 st, 1939. That’s- Poland. That’s when the Germans went after Poland. Westerplatte.”

“ _Why would he repeat it three times-Oh._ ” Natasha snorts. “ _Good boy. Thanks Cap. I’ll take it from here. Hill,we’ll get on route for Potts’ extraction after a brief pitstop._ ”

“ _If you think I’m going to leave before we get that kid out-_ ”

“ _Understood, Romanov_ ,” Hill says, calm and collected even with the tail end of Potts’ rant before Natasha cuts off her feed. “ _Thor, keep holding steady until Loki is out in the open. Distraction team, get a move on. Make some noise; let’s keep everyone’s eyes on you and give Romanov and the rest time to work_. _Watch for civilians, keep your shots clear._ ”

Steve gets moving immediately, pulling the armored hood over his head. It fits more snug than the helmet he’d had before, like it’s been molded to him, and for all he knows it was. Just another difference from what he’d worn once upon a time (weeks ago), like this ridiculously light, thin suit. He knows it’s armored and strong and sturdy, can feel the flexible plates sown into the fabric but it feels like he’s in a pair of long johns for all its lack of weight and thickness. He misses _his_ suit. He misses his old life.

The agents move smoothly behind him in their armored vests and Steve’s glad at least that Fury’s given him people who know what they’re doing. The moment they hit the main lawn in front of Stane’s ridiculously huge building, there’s a shout and then bullets rip into the grass. Steve dodges behind a stupid sculpture he can’t identify as part of the team dives for cover on hedging to the left and right of that. He does a quick headcount and doesn’t see any bodies so he turns his attention to figuring out just how many men Loki’s got with him. He can’t get a clear idea of it, not with how many of the shots are coming from windows, but he figures a couple dozen. If he had his own team, this would be cake. (It wouldn’t, but he likes to think it would anyway.)

There aren’t any Hydra weapons in use but Steve doesn’t count on that lasting. He peeks over the edge of the sculpture and nearly gets his head shot off but it’s long enough to catch sight of a dozen guys in full gear spilling out onto the green and heading straight for him. Steve’s got a good idea what their orders are and he feels himself getting excited at the prospect of a full out fight, the kind he remembers, the kind he’s good at. Something he _gets_.

Steve signals his agents and then brings the shield around to block bullets as he starts the charge. He jerks around the sculpture and starts at them full speed, almost grinning. The sound and feel of ricochet is strangely comforting before he slams full force into his first target, knocking the man several feet back. Steve’s body knows how to move and he glides through the tightening clump of enemies with little thought. Every impact of his fist or shield reverberates up through his body and it is so, so very good.

The guys are as tough as the ones in the carrier had been, and just as seemingly impervious to pain. Steve doesn’t like looking at their blank faces as he cuts them down, breaks their bones, and still finds them coming back after him. About the only way they stay down is with a total knock out. Knowing they can be awakened from the mind control that way from experience with Clint, he targets heads and hopes for the best.

Around him, he can hear the agents taking disabling shots and keeping the guys hemmed in where they want him. There’s a lot of noise; Hill should be happy. No sign of Loki though and that makes Steve feel antsy. He hopes he’s not missing something big while letting the others take the lead in actually solving this.

 

\----

It takes Natasha only a few minutes to translate the rest of Stark’s numerical code in a web address and then she has Potts open a browser on her tablet. The two of them stare as a website loads up, complete with an embedded video. It looks like some a temporary video dump, posted only two hours before and set to be deleted by midnight.

“Clever,” Natasha murmurs fondly and then starts the video. That boy can be a pain in the ass, but she rather likes his inventive nature. Her fondness disappears abruptly at the sight of the kid. He’s bruised and bloodied, probably from the fall but possibly worsened by his captivity. She doesn’t like how tired and harried he is on top of that, but there’s a determination she can appreciate, the same determination that had him getting this video to them in the first place. She concentrates on that. There will be plenty of time to look after him later.

“ _Not much time, they’re gonna notice I left in a second_ ,” Stark starts, then immediately launches into an explanation. “ _Selvig put a failsafe in the main rig for the portal generator. I don’t think he’s all the way controlled even though he thinks he is. Loki hasn’t figured it out yet.”_

He looks grimly proud of that. “ _You’re gonna need to get in and switch off the generator before it powers up completely. Change the last six numbers of the url to 364872 and that’ll take you to a schematic I roughed out for you. If you don’t get to the generator before it turns on, you’ll have to get Loki’s staff and use it to do the job. The generator has a force field powered by the same thing as the staff; it’ll cancel out the force field and allow you to get close to the switch._ ”

He hesitates, jaw tightening, and then says, “ _I’m sorry. I’m helping him of my own will. And if you don’t get there fast enough, I’m going to help him succeed.”_

Natasha’s gaze sharpens on the kid’s face as Potts draws in a swift breath. There’s no trace of blue in his eyes, but Loki’s gotten to him somehow. The Loki of legend was a great liar and Thor had warned them of his brother’s manipulative nature. Whatever he had on Stark was huge.

 “ _I know it’s- I just… You wouldn’t understand. I have to save them,_ ” the video continues and Stark blinks twice, like he’s trying to clear his eyes, but his expression doesn’t change. “ _If I’d been there, they’d still be alive._ _I just- I just want to see my parents again. I have to take this chance. He says he can-_ ”

There’s a sound from off screen and Stark looks towards it before cursing and shutting off the recording. For several seconds, Natasha just stares at the ending frame. Then Potts angrily closes the window and opens up the schematic for them to see. She runs her fingers along the paths Stark has roughed out and if it weren’t for the fact that Natasha knows his age, she’d figure him to be a professional. There’s a familiarity in his lines that makes her wonder just how young he was when he started learning this.

“Please tell me someone is going to get this psychopath,” Potts growls out and it is a controlled, cold-burning anger, all menace under wraps, the kind Natasha knows is ten times more dangerous than unleashed fury. It’s the kind of anger Natasha herself tends to have.

Natasha solemnly nods and taps her ear piece, detailing Stark’s instructions to the others absently while she thinks about Stark’s words. So, Stark’s parents are definitely dead; good to know for sure. If Loki had given Stark any reason to believe they could be revived? Well, she’s not sure Loki _couldn’t_ do it. She just doubts he would actually put in the effort instead of finding a way to wiggle out of whatever deal he’s made with the boy. Still, he’s gotten Stark to believe it and belief can be a powerful thing.

Isn’t it interesting, though, how he’d coded his secret message to something only Rogers was likely to guess. She wonders if Loki’s promise isn’t the only thing Stark believes in.

Fury doesn’t sound happy as he relays, “ _Prioritize locating this portal generator. We want to get it taken out before Loki activates it, unless any of you are really that interested in seeing his pet army. If you come across Stark, get him the hell out of the way.”_

Natasha glances at Potts, weighing her options. “Do you know where Stark is right now?”

“R&D, sector twelve,” Potts replies with a nod.

She doesn’t wait for Natasha to tell her anything, just turns sharply on her heel and starts down the hall. Natasha goes after her, keeping an eye out for any of Loki’s men, but Potts quickly turns off the well-traveled halls before anyone notices them, taking them down back stairways and thin, inner corridors. Natasha’s evaluation of her rises. No wonder Coulson has finally been getting somewhere with the Stane case.

They’re partway there when the lights flicker and a low rumble echoes through the halls. Natasha stops and looks at Potts, who’s gone pale as vibration starts up in the floor beneath their feet.

“Oh no, they’re starting up the Reactor,” Potts moans out and then she jerks the heels off her feet before sprinting down the hall at full speed. Natasha’s right at her side, knowing just how bad this is. If they don’t get to the portal generator before it activates and opens the portal to who knows where... Natasha is grimly aware that they probably won’t. She quickly rearranges her plan of action: Find Stark, Potts can evacuate the both of them, and she will go on forward to take down the generator.  If Stark resists... Well. Natasha knows how to deal with resistance.

They’re only stopped once and Natasha takes down the four men swiftly and efficiently. She spares them no thought after, hurrying Potts along, and they quickly get to a door marked ‘Sector 12’. Potts makes to go right in but Natasha stops her and guides the other woman behind because the door’s been sealed and the danger light above the door has been lit. She peeks through the small window and doesn’t see anyone right in front of the door, but she does spot a glow starting to emit from the activated reactor.

Natasha doesn’t know enough about this kind of tech to disable it from here without any disastrous consequences and the lack of personnel inside makes it pretty obvious it’s not going to be safe to go in right now. But it’s just the reactor down here. Loki must have the actual generator elsewhere.

“This is Romanov, does anyone see any kind of tech on the street that can’t be accounted for?” she asks, fully expecting someone to make a joke, but all she hears is a string of negatives.

At least until Clint pipes up, “ _No, but there are an awful lot of people on the roof suddenly_.”

Natasha has a very, very bad feeling about this.

\----

They aren’t going to make it. Tony knew they wouldn’t even with his stupid video. He can hear the gunfire down below, see swarming vehicles coming down every street, and it’s still not going to be enough. With his help along with Selvig’s general brilliance, the generator went together smooth as pie and they didn’t even have trouble routing it into the Arc Reactor through the roof access. There hadn’t been anything Tony could do to slow that down, even if he’d been willing to do that.

Before this mess, he’d hung around sector twelve when his old man wasn’t around, just listening to the hum of the Reactor when they started her up for brief periods. There’s not much Stark tech he knows better. It had been comforting to listen to and as long as he didn’t get underfoot, no one had minded him hanging around. He’d done most of his homework there and had a small desk space to himself for working on projects, anything that wouldn’t interfere. They hadn’t figured out a viable core material before he’d been jettisoned to the future by an insane wizard, and it doesn’t look like they have now, either. It’s kind of sad and maybe if he had the time and freedom, Tony might be able to do it. He doubts that will happen now, even if he survives this.

Tony feels weirdly dirty using the Reactor for this. He still does it, of course, double checks everything, makes sure the city grid will be his the second he needs it. The Reactor is bound to burn through its core before they’re done with the portal, but the backup power can still be routed in to stabilize things. Once the portal is open, it’ll feed just fine on that with him monitoring power spikes and any other problems. He hadn’t been lying to Loki when he said he’d give it his all. This is the best chance he has of going back. Loki had given his word. Tony has to believe in that, so he will give Loki as much time as possible.

He wonders if Captain America will forgive him for this. He doubts it.

Selvig stands a few feet around the generator, still looking half mad and muttering to himself about glory and truth. Tony figured out how to turn him out quick. He’d feel sorry for the guy if he weren’t so annoying and also kind of creepy. Half the soldiers with Loki have that same creepy blue stare but none of them are as manic as Selvig and pretty much none of the others even bothered talking to him. He prefers it that way.  

“And how are things going?” Loki asks from fucking nowhere and Tony jumps despite himself, jerking his head to glare at him over his shoulder. Loki smiles nastily back.

“It’s ready!” Selvig is grinning huge and pathetically proud. Tony hopes this isn’t his usual disposition.

“Good. Proceed, Doctor. I would have this begun quickly.”

Selvig chirps out agreement and turns back to the machine as Loki rounds onto Tony. The sudden close quarters has Tony stumbling back a step but he keeps his eyes on Loki’s face. There is a suddenly great amount of menace to him, like a wave of strength and malice Tony hadn’t noticed before. It gets into his chest, tightens around his heart, and it’s all Tony can do to keep standing.

“You’ve been ever so helpful, have you not?” the madman says and Tony doesn’t know what his angle is, but he nods.

“It’ll work. You’ll get your doorway and we’ll hold it as long as you need,” Tony reports. He’d checked Selvig’s math himself. Twice.

 “Good.” Loki’s smile widens. “Now tell me, boy. How long ago did you betray me to your precious Captain?”

Tony’s heart stops. For a moment, all he can do is blink. Loki knows. Loki _knows!_ Tony can’t run, his muscles bunched and tight as he stares at Loki’s gleeful face. He wasn’t careful enough. “I didn’t- It- I did everything you told me to do.”

“It must have been fairly early then,” Loki says. He doesn’t look like he really cares. Actually, he seems almost happy about that. “I knew you would warn them.”

“They won’t be here fast enough,” Tony insists, and he manages to get his body under enough control to take a single step back. “I knew they wouldn’t!”

Loki lifts a hand and the staff materializes in it. “Oh, I believe you. It was completely by plan that you warned them, do be sure of that. You are a lovely puppet, Stark.”

Puppet. He’d done everything Loki wanted, even when he was trying to help. Tony swallows, his throat suddenly caught with guilt as he takes another step back. Of course he’d screwed up. There wasn’t a moment of his life that he didn’t mess up. What had he even been _thinking?_

“Please don’t.” It comes out as a whisper because he can’t run away and he’s got no chance if he tries to fight. Tony is good at running odds on survival or bodily harm. He knows this won’t end well and it is all his own fault. He thought he could play both sides, thought warning the others would shore him up against what he’s doing now, but no. It was all Loki wanted. Even when he thought he was running his own life, making his own choices, he wasn’t.

Loki’s expression grows almost caring, the way his mother’s got when talking about one of the projects that took up all her time and why she couldn’t play with him that day. “I’m going to give you a gift, Stark. A wonderful, glorious gift.”

“Don’t-”

“Soon you will see the truth of this,” Loki purrs as he shifts the staff in his grip, readying to press it to Tony’s chest.

That’s what breaks the vice on his legs. Tony turns and starts to run even though he knows it’s futile, knows that the chance of harm will grow with every step he takes- which aren’t many because suddenly Loki is in front of him. Tony sucks in a gasp of air and then the staff point touches his chest. A deep cold radiates from it, filling his entire body with ice. In a second, it’s in his head.

“Open your eyes and look upon your _God_ ,” Loki hisses and Tony does.

Abruptly, Tony doesn’t know why he was scared at all. He straightens and his heartbeat slows, going metronome steady. He is filled with a great sense of peace and understanding. Everything becomes clear. He knows what he is, what he has to do. It’s all so beautiful he could cry. Never has he felt so perfect.

Tony sees Loki smiling at him and he smiles back because Loki has _saved_ him.

“I believe you have work to do,” Loki says and yes, he’s right. There is so much work to be done. Tony turns to the generator and joins Selvig. When his fingers lay upon the generator, he is filled with contentment. Tony grins at it and keys in the initiation sequence as the power from the Reactor grows.

He hears someone shout his name but everything else matters so very little now. Tony lets others handle that as he watches the readout, monitoring the power levels. And as that power peaks, he does not hesitate in activating the generator.

A rip opens in the sky to rain down Loki’s strange army, and it is the most beautiful thing Tony has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little short but the next scene is already 2k and not done and that'd be waaay over my 5k usual for these chapters. Also, cliffhangers are always fun for everyone right? (wrong.)
> 
> There are a lot of theories on why Loki isn't able to control Tony in the movie, but I'm going with the assumption that the arc reactor in his chest is what prevents it. This Tony doesn't have one and so, he is able to be controlled.


	9. Safe in New York City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the wait! I had to train people for the last two months straight and couldn't work on anything with a trainee at my side the whole time.
> 
> Also, this was really hard to write. I am still not totally happy with it but I'd rather get it out to you than sit and obsess. So here you go! A radically changed conclusion to Avengers!

The rip in the sky is like nothing Steve has ever seen before, except in his own mind when he read. It’s almost beautiful. It’s also gushing thousands of enemies.

“ _Air support! Get a bead on that portal and concentrate fire to take out as many as possible before they get out!_ ” Fury snarls and Steve sees several armed helicopters moving into position. He doesn’t know how much good this’ll do considering the sheer density of their numbers, but at least it should thin them out a bit.

Thankfully, he and the Distraction team have taken out Loki’s men on the ground, and the rest of the Infiltration team got the ones inside. No one’s shooting at him (yet) so his couple seconds of stupefied shock doesn’t get him killed. Already, the alien troops are hitting the ground and then Steve has his hands full.

“ _Distraction team, back up Captain America on the alien front_ ,” Coulson orders with the same placid calm he’s always had. “ _Infiltration team, get any non-combatants in the building to safety, then join them. Everyone else, you’re on crowd control. Minimize civilian death as much as possible_.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from the team leaders before they set to their duties. Steve’s grateful because now he can concentrate on the aliens who are still raining down from the sky like cockroaches. He doesn’t have time to think about what’s going on, what he’s fighting, so he doesn’t. He just tries to survive this and take down as many of them as possible. He can hear the team working around him but trusts them to look after themselves, barely noticing the continued chatter of the comm.

“ _ETA on the Army? National Guard? Someone?!_ ”

“ _Unknown, last estimate is an hour at most._ ”

“ _We’ll be dead in an hour! The hell are they thinking?!_ ”

“ _Stark is compromised_.”

Steve freezes at Natasha’s quiet words cut through the rest. He nearly gets beaned in the head by an alien rifle shot, but Clint yells a warning in his ear and he jerks without thinking. Steve takes it out with a savage slam with his shield and hears a crunch. It drops to the ground with a meaty thud that’s way too heavy for something entirely organic, so he’s pretty sure it’s not.

“ _Like Barton?_ ” Fury demands and when she doesn’t answer immediately, snaps out, “ _Romanov!”_

“ _Like Barton,_ ” Natasha confirms and behind her voice, Steve can hear Miss Potts snarling out hysterically, “ _You son of a bitch! He’s just a kid!”_

“Is he hurt?!” Steve can’t stop himself from asking as he rams into another of the strange aliens – and _damn_ are they solid – but he wants to ask more, for specifics, for anything. If Tony’s hurt-

“ _Superficial-_ ” Natasha cuts off sharply and Steve catches the beginning of Loki saying something before her comm. shuts off completely.

“ _Barton!”_ Fury barks while Steve tries to fight past the growing lump of terror in his belly. He can’t be distracted when the aliens are all around, waiting to take him out.  

“ _Loki’s on the move, I’m lining up a shot. Five bogeys on the tower; Romanov’s handling it, but she could use some back up. Looks like another group’s heading that way.”_

“I’m going-” Steve begins but Fury cuts him off.

“ _Stay on the ground! Echo-one, do you copy?_ ”

“ _I copy. Breaking away to support Romanov.”_

 _“Rogers, I need you on crowd control. Get the damn cops working with us already. Flash that 40s charm or something. And somebody tell Thor to quit blowing out our communications towers! We keep getting thrown back to the damn Stone Age every five minutes. Just because his supercharged ass can’t hold an ear piece doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t need them._ ”

Steve wants to scream at him. Everything inside him rages against leaving Tony to whatever fate’s coming his way, leaving him alone, leaving someone else to fix that mess, but Steve is a soldier and a commander. He knows he’s better suited here where his strength and his skill and his very presence is holding the line. He can’t put one kid over the whole city, even though he wants to. He takes a breath, slow and deep.

Okay. He just hopes Tony survives this.

“Fine, but I need a few things. Hawkeye, call out groups and stragglers,” he forces himself to say and tries not to feel like he’s somehow betraying Tony by not going after him right now. “Fury, concentrate a few teams on keeping the perimeter. Tell Thor to concentrate on taking out the aircraft. Have him leave the survivors for a ground team to clean up. What’s Loki’s position?”

“ _Up high, almost got- Damn it, Thor!_ ”

“Barton?”

“ _Sorry guys, I hope the comm. unit is still broadcasting because that last lightning strike shorted out my hearing aid and Nat smashed the spare when I was sleep-killing,_ ” Clint grumbles amid a large amount of static. _“You’re gonna have to get a little creative to contact me. Have fun, kids.”_

Steve swears under his breath and then heads down the street as he sees another contingent of the aliens coming after a group of stranded policemen. He hears Fury bark something about a lookout heading up to Barton but he lets it fall from his mind as he topples the first alien down with a body slam. The next he takes out with a slice of the shield edge, and then a lucky bullet ricochets off to knock another in in the middle of its’ face, which seems to do the job whether it has a brain there or not.

(Goddamn _aliens._ )

“Anyone hurt?” he asks the officers and then frowns at their looks of terror and hero worship.

“Uh, no,” one manages to mumble before another one comes forward. He’s big, powerful, and there is authority in every inch of him. His stare reminds Steve a little of Colonel Phillips, except a lot younger.

“We had it covered, but thank you,” he says brusquely.

“Look, Officer-” Steve pauses to glance at his ID tag, “Davis, I wasn’t trained for this sort of thing, so something tells me _you_ weren’t either. Now we can fight about it, or we can start working together to keep as many people alive as possible.”

Davis considers him and Steve’s got the feeling he’s taking in every possibility of failure into account before he reluctantly nods. “Okay. What do you want us to do?”

“SHIELD’s handling the perimeter, trying to keep these things contained. We need men on evacuation, get the people out of these buildings. You take them to the basements or through the subways. Keep them off the streets. I need a clear perimeter as far back as 39th. No idea if the Guard will show up, but we’ve got special ops teams heading to take care of the aliens, so you worry about the civilians.”

“Best idea I ever heard,” Davis says, rolling his eyes a bit, but he still turns to bark orders to the rest. “Teams of two, start at the top and clear them out. Anyone refuses to budge, it’s their own heads. We don’t have time to argue.”

Steve gives him a grateful look and leaves them to do their job, shooting a quick message to have SHIELD patch into the police frequencies to help direct them from problem spots.

He gets bits and pieces of what’s going on above but none of them mention Tony and most of it doesn’t matter. Clint’s reports things dutifully so Steve’s not surprised when a wave comes his way or someone tries and fails at being a hero (he’s sent four half-drunk twenty-somethings toddling towards safety already). Thor’s apparently doing good with getting the aircraft because most of what Steve’s dealing with are ground troops.

Then he hears, “ _What is that idiot doing?_ ”

“What?” comes out before he remembers Clint can’t hear him.

“ _Moron on a moped heading straight for you, Cap! Five seconds!_ ”

Steve takes out another two aliens and then sees it. He’s got every intention of sending the civilian off like the rest, but the motorist comes to a stop and takes off his helmet-

“So this all seems horrible,” Banner says and Steve doesn’t know if he should be happy to see him or not. It’s not like he’s exactly Hulked out at the moment and who knows if Hulk would be an ally at all. “I hope I’m not late.”

“There seems to be plenty for everyone,” Steve grouses as he glances the man up and down. “I don’t suppose you’re armed.”

Banner smiles, twisted a bit with uncomfortable knowledge. “Yes, but not the way you mean.”

“Sure that’s a good idea?”

“Fairly.”

Steve draws in a slow breath. Not like the Hulk could really make it that much worse. If he can somehow keep him contained to the alien force... He nods. “Okay, Doctor. Now might be a good time to get-”

And then a behemoth monster bio-tech _whale_ appears between two buildings and _swims in thin air_. Steve wants to throw a fit. Of all the stupid, out of this world things he’s experienced in the future, this is so completely ridiculous that his Weird Shit meter just gives up and blows. He is _so done._ When this is over, he’s moving to Hawaii.

“Good thing I’m always angry,” Banner says blithely, but there’s an undertone of stupefied disdain that Steve echoes inside.

Turns out, the giant mutant whale thing isn’t nearly as bad when a huge green guy punches it through the pavement into the subway below.

\----

This is so beyond the line of duty that Pepper feels well within her rights to start writing up her resignation in her head. She does it almost every day but today’s version includes phrases like “lack of hazard pay” and “did not sign up to be the comic book villain’s assistant”.

She huddles behind one of the half crushed decorative roof bits, staring over the edge as the agent dances between five of the _aliens_ , looking for all the world like she’s enjoying herself rather than trying not to die. Past her, Selvig and Tony stand near the freaky light show machine, ignoring everything else. She thinks they’re monitoring whatever it’s doing – who is she kidding, she _knows_ what it’s doing – but Selvig keeps making random adjustments that make the bright energy stream waver and wiggle on its way up to the rip in the sky.

Pepper is going to need to up her medication dosage after this.

Something explodes nearby and suddenly chunks of flaming metal hit the roof all over. Pepper squeaks as she ducks low as possible. She hears concrete and tile bits fly by and then a few meaty thuds. When she lifts her head, she sees Selvig crumpled near the edge of the roof, motionless. Three of the aliens are down, too, and Romanov quickly dispatches the other two.  After, she steps lightly to Selvig, a couple fingers to his throat, and then turns towards Pepper. They share a loaded look before Romanov starts towards the machine and Tony, who has ignored the entire event.

Tony, who is apparently a Stark. Pepper can see the resemblance between him and Morgan now. The dark hair and eyes, the way their faces are shaped, the swinging timber of their voices, the absolute intensity of every gesture. She wonders if Tony is Morgan’s son, illegitimate and unmentioned. More likely a cousin. She can’t see anyone staying with Morgan long enough to make a child, honestly.

“Shut it down, Tony,” Romanov says and despite the situation, there is an easy sternness in her voice.

Tony doesn’t move. “It’s too late. It can’t be stopped now.”

And maybe behind the mania, he’s almost regretful of that. Pepper wonders if he’ll remember this once Loki’s mind control is out of his system. She hopes not.

Her thoughts screech to a halt when, without even looking up, Tony drags out a handgun from where it had been stuffed in his waistband under his shirt and immediately lifts it to his temple. Romanov freezes ten feet away from him.

“I thought I would use this to stop him before I saw the truth,” Tony tells her, almost bored. His other hand continues tapping in commands to the machine. “Don’t move. You don’t understand how important this is.”

“What don’t I understand?” she asks. She sounds so calm while Pepper’s heart is going a hundred miles an hour. She doesn’t know how anyone could handle it. Then Romanov looks at her, tilts her head just enough to meet Pepper’s eyes. She glances to the side once, then turns her full attention back onto the kid.

“You haven’t _seen_ it. We’re doing something great. Something _amazing._ Something Dad could never have even _dreamed_ of. I’ll show him. I’ll show everyone.”

“Show us what?”

“The universe. The future. Our _purpose._ If only you could see it,” Tony muses with a small shake of his head. “You’d understand-”

Romanov stops in the middle of taking a step as Tony smoothly presses the safety off. Pepper almost stops breathing.

“Tony,” Romanov says slow and low, “put down the gun.”

“I can’t let you stop this. I can’t let you interfere. This is bigger than me. Bigger than any of us. You’ll see.”

He doesn’t sound like a robot. It’s too emphatic, too manic for that. Pepper watches him make a broad gesture with his free hand, the other one steady and sure. It terrifies her how comfortable he seems with a weapon in his hand. He’s just a _kid_.

“I will listen to every word, just put the gun down,” Romanov tries and catches Pepper’s eye a second time.

Tony looks at Romanov then. His eyes are so wrong in pale blue and they’re beginning to gain the same kind of sick sheen Selvig’s have. Like whatever Loki did to him, whatever that magic staff did, is eating him up from the inside. And when Tony smiles, there’s nothing sane or natural about it. “I can’t do that, jackboot. Then you might try to stop me.”

His voice slides from Pepper’s immediate attention because abruptly, she realizes this is going to go very bad very quickly if they don’t get the gun away from him. Romanov shifts her weight from one foot to the other, light and ready to spring, and while Tony seems out of it, his hand stays steady and his finger is way, way too close to the trigger.

His attention is also fully on Romanov. Pepper swallows thickly and then slides out into the open. She’s far to the side and Tony doesn’t seem to notice as she carefully makes her way behind him. Romanov keeps him talking, keeps her eyes on his face, but Pepper is sure she knows what she’s doing. God, not that _Pepper_ does, considering how crazy this is. She could end up shot, get Romanov shot, end up inciting Tony to shoot _himself_ -

She doesn’t have time to think about that. Especially not as one of the flying alien hovercrafts explodes and showers the roof with debris _again_. Pepper launches forward and shoves Tony’s head down, even as Romanov comes from the front and knocks his hand (and the gun) up with a quick, precision strike. It goes off, but Romanov’s already wrestling it from his hand with ease.

Tony stumbles from them and then he jerks around and slams bodily into Romanov. The two of them go down but Romanov somehow manages to flip Tony right back off her as she twists effortlessly back to her feet only to lift the stolen gun and fire off two rounds in Pepper’s direction. Pepper screams and then hears something drop behind her. It’s one of the things, the alien things, maybe the driver of the hovercraft that blew up, she doesn’t know, she does not _care_.

“This is crazy,” she sobs out as Tony starts trying to get up only to have Romanov unceremoniously pistol whip him unconscious. “Oh my god!”

“He’ll be fine,” Romanov says coolly, ejecting the gun’s magazine so she can see how much ammunition it’s got left. Pepper glares at her and then goes to check on Tony. He’s breathing and she feels on his head but he’s not bleeding anywhere new, despite the bump she’s sure is going to hurt later. She lets out a ragged sigh of relief.

Romanov ignores her and instead goes to the glowing machine to look over the display Tony had been fiddling with. She glares over it a few seconds and then touches her ear.

\----

“ _Romanov here. Selvig and Stark are down. Superficial injuries, nothing long term. Roof secured. I need Loki’s staff. Preferably before the world ends.”_

Steve doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help a relieved sigh because even though Tony got hurt, he isn’t hurt seriously and probably safe. As safe as anyone can be. Then he has to bounce out of the way of Hulk’s brand of collateral damage. He’d been wrong. No one “manages” the Hulk. They just stay the hell out of his way. Thankfully, he seems to be concentrating on the bad guys, so Steve counts that as a win.

“ _Tell the war maiden I shall swiftly be at her aid_ ,” he overhears from some hapless agent’s comm that’s been assigned to Thor.

 _“Romanov, Thor says-_ ”

“ _I heard him. Hawkeye, eyes on Loki?”_

“ _Crap, what’s the word_ ,” says someone who is certainly not Clint, must be who’s assigned to _him_. For a moment, Steve is almost amused by the telephone game.

“ _You have got to work on your signing, Schbeiker. It’s sloppy,”_ Clint chimes in finally. There’s a pause, then, _“Second level landing of the Stark building, Thor_. _Big balcony._ _I just flattened his ride._ ”

“ _My thanks to you_.”

“ _Wait, don’t just- Why do men never listen? He’s worse than my useless husband._ ”

“ _Tough luck, Chang._ ”

“ _Don’t even start. Your target stays **still**_.”

“ _Public channels, ladies_ ,” Fury reminds the two agents grumpily before setting his sights on Steve. “ _Rogers, report._ ”

“Well, the Hulk seems to be enjoying himself,” Steve says as dryly as he can. “No sign of civilians in the last ten minutes. NYPD seems to be doing their job getting them out of the way.”

“ _Finally some good news,_ ” Fury mutters. “ _Eyes on Thor. What’s his progress on the staff?_ ”

“ _The fool is still engaging the enemy without true spirit._ ”

“ _Chang, when I want poetry, I’ll go to a damn reading. Let’s pretend that we’re in a combat situation and wordiness is like shooting ourselves in the foot over and over.”_

“ _Apologies, sir. Thor is letting Loki kick him around._ ” The seething resentment in her voice almost makes Steve laugh, but then he has to fight a stray alien Hulk missed. “ _He- Correction. He has disarmed the target.”_

“ _He got the staff?_ ”

“ _No. He’s simply fighting Loki without it.”_

“ _Romanov-_ ”

“ _Going for it now._ ”

Steve finishes up with his current target and goes on after the Hulk, who’s been making steady progress towards- oh hell. Steve leaps along piles of debris and bodies, hoping to get Hulk before... He doesn’t make it.

“Hulk’s scaling Stane international,” he reports bleakly.

“ _What?! Distract him-_ ”

“Don’t think that’s an option. He’s already twenty floors up.”

Steve considers his options then grimly strides into the building. Turns out the elevators still work and despite the keypad near buttons for the uppermost floors, it lets him choose the second to highest anyway. He figures maybe the security protocols got suspended due to the evacuation, or maybe he’s just lucky.

The chatter shifts to a fight over whether they should leave Hulk be and hope for the best, or use air support to get him angry at _them_. No one volunteers for the latter and Steve is pretty sure that is a one way street to losing the Hulk (and Banner) permanently. Maybe he can make a difference, though. At the very least, maybe he can keep Hulk from doing too much structural damage.

“I’ll get him,” he tells them and then the elevator doors open up on floor seventy-four just in time for him to see Thor crash through the wall of glass windows overlooking the main balcony. Steve spots Loki heading their way looking pissed beyond all reason, but more than that, he sees the gargantuan shape of the Hulk coming up behind him. Steve considers warning him. Then he doesn’t.

“Called for help, _brother?_ ” Loki sneers out as he sees Steve, his lips turning with rage. “Do you think this mere mortal could ever-”

Concrete cracks under the Hulk’s sheer size as he climbs onto the balcony and Loki jerks around to stare at him. Steve sees the moment when something snaps, when Loki absolutely loses it.

“Enough!” Loki howls shrilly, hands clenched into shaking fists at his sides. “You are, all of you, beneath me! I am a god, you dull creature, and I will not be bullied-”

The Hulk has less patience for whining than Steve does. He grabs Loki by the legs and proceeds to smash the hell out of him. Steve winces in sympathy and helps Thor up to his feet. The pained look on Thor’s face says everything about how he feels not stepping in. The Hulk doesn’t kill Loki, just beats him hard enough that Loki doesn’t try to get up. He just lays there when the Hulk lets go, wheezing pathetically.

“Puny god,” the Hulk mutters in disgust. He gives Steve and Thor a glance, then dismisses them and jumps right off the balcony again. From the alien screams he hears almost immediately, Steve knows he’s okay.

Thor steadies himself and goes to Loki’s side. “You brought this on yourself. Lie still. It will be over soon.”

Loki can’t even spit a curse. Shaking his head, Steve returns to the elevator and taps his comm. unit. “Rogers here. Loki is down and in Thor’s custody. Requesting SHEILD team to contain him. Status on the portal?”

“ _I’ve got the staff_ ,” Romanov replies tersely and there’s a lot of static. Steve wonders how close to the machine she is now. “ _I think I can shut it down. Stark’s warning was accurate as far as I can tell._ ”

“Do it.” He’s not sure of much except that they need to stop the flow of the alien horde.

“ _Containment team on its way_ ,” Coulson says just as the elevator dings and opens up to the roof. Steve gives it a wary look over. Natasha’s got the staff and is guiding it into the energy field around the portal machine. Selvig’s still unconscious near the edge. Miss Potts sits with her back against some broken masonry with Tony laid out beside her. Steve’s chest clenches tight and painful at the bonelessness of his sprawl.

Potts stares at him as Steve drops to his knee and immediately checks Tony’s throat. His heartbeat is blessedly strong. Steve lets out a relieved sigh. He doesn’t look great, but he’s alive and that’s all Steve cares about.

“Watch him?” he asks Potts and she gives a nervous, incredulous smile but nods acceptance.

Steve gets up and turns his gaze to the portal in the sky. There’s another whale coming through, just as ridiculously huge as the last one, and then abruptly the energy cuts off as Natasha manages to turn off the machine. The energy wave juts upward swiftly and then the portal flexes, flashes, and then is gone. The half whale already through drops limp and solid, taking out a skyscraper with it.

Steve winces, but immediately calls out, “Portal closed. Status?”

“ _Resistance gone to nil!_ ” one of the team commanders shouts, sounding like he’s not sure he can trust his luck. “ _They’re just standing there like confused puppies._ ”

Steve peered over the edge of the building. He could just make out several of the aliens standing motionless, like they were waiting for something that wasn’t coming.

“ _Like someone lobotomized the whole lot of them_ ,” another mutters uncomfortably.

It’s creepy to consider.

“ _Teams, gather the remaining aliens,_ ” Fury orders. “ _I’ve got trucks on their way to remove them from the city. If any resist, kill immediately._ ”

“I need a medical team to the Stark building,” Steve says the moment he cuts out. “Selvig and Tony are unconscious, breathing, but may be suffering after effects of Loki’s staff.”

“ _On our way_ ,” another team pipes up. Between the two of them, Natasha and Potts handle getting Tony in the elevator and Steve pulls Selvig on his own. The elevator is a tight squeeze but a blessedly short ride and Steve is so very grateful it’s still working at all. The medical team shows up about the time they get the two of them dragged outside. They take over, checking vitals and strapping both down for transport.

“We’ll have Coulson update you,” the medic promises as Steve reluctantly lets them take Tony off. He needs to be examined and if Clint’s recovery has been any indication, it’s not going to be pretty. Steve knows he’s needed for cleanup, though. There’s just so much damage they need all hands on deck.

After that, things are a lot less exciting. Coulson gets SHIELD moving on rounding up the listless alien drones while the police work on search and rescue. The National Guard finally shows and end up coordinating with the cops. Steve stays to help, as does Thor, but both Natasha and Clint get recalled to Fury’s side for debriefing. Steve’s sure he’ll wonder about that later but right now he’s tired and hungry and wants to get as many people helped as he can before he drops.

One of the rescue workers, a volunteer firefighter who’s been handling basic injuries for the folks dragged out of rubble, takes on look at Steve and orders him to “sit your ass down before you croak, you muscle bound idiot.” He’s tired enough to listen and dutifully drinks the water she shoves in his hand. Besides, it’s kind of refreshing to get treated like a normal soldier.

Steve ends up catching a couple hours of sleep before he gets back into the rescue. Most of the area’s been cleared and it turns out SHIELD did an excellent job keeping things contained to only a couple miles of the city. It’s going to be a hell of a cleanup job. He’s pretty sure Manhattan will recover just fine.

It’s been nearly eighteen hours since the portal closed before Steve gets back to SHIELD headquarters to see Tony. He finds Banner there, shrunk down and wearing medical scrubs in lieu of the clothing he’d destroyed transforming. Tony’s in a private room and seems to be sleeping all right when Steve looks him over.

“How is he?” Steve asks and the same time Banner says, “How is it out there?”

They share an amused look.

“It’s messy,” Steve admits. “A lot of minor injuries, a couple major ones.”

Banner nods sadly. “A lot of dead ones, too, right? Haven’t turned on the television.”

“I don’t blame you.” Steve pulls a chair over to Tony’s side and almost collapses into it. He’s exhausted, run down to dregs. “It’s going to take a while to rebuild.”

Shaking his head a little, Banner closes his book. “I didn’t want him to wake up alone. Agent Romanov said it would be a bad idea. Since you’re here, I think I’m going to take Fury’s offer of a room up and collapse for a few days.”

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs sincerely and Banner blinks a moment, like he’s surprised. He smiles awkwardly, gives a little wave, and then he’s gone. Steve closes his eyes and lays his head back. Maybe he’ll just rest here. Yeah. That seems like a good idea.

\----

He wakes up six hours later.

Tony’s bed is empty.

Abruptly, Steve jerks up from the chair as his heart jumps into overdrive, and then he realizes there is a bundle of boy and blankets in a corner of the room, behind the chair Banner left behind. Tony’s big, dark eyes lock onto him. There’s no hint of the mind controlled blue in them, but there’s also none of Tony’s usual swagger.

“Hey,” Steve says because he can’t think of anything else.

Tony continues to stare at him. He looks sick, absolutely worn down. He doesn’t respond.

Steve starts towards him slowly, ready to stop the second Tony seems scared or anything else, but Tony lets him get all the way to the edge of the chair. Steve doesn’t sit there, instead slides his way to sit on the floor with the edge of the chair between them. Tony wanted the barrier, apparently. He’s not going to disturb that.

“How do you feel?”

He realizes Tony is shivering, despite the layers of blankets dragged around him. Tony doesn’t answer and after Steve sits, he shifts his gaze to the back of the chair and stares, unblinking. He looks so very haunted.

“It’s okay,” Steve tells him. “You don’t have to talk to me. I’ll just be here, okay?”

There’s no answer, not even a twitch. Steve doesn’t leave until there is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really was no good solution to the Tony-Flies-A-Missile-Into-The-Portal thing so it just... didn't happen. But be sure, there will be major consequences from not taking out the mothership. 
> 
> Also, I still years later think it's weird how uninvolved SHIELD was in that debacle, other than the Avengers themselves, sooooo. SHEILD was much more involved this time. xD


	10. Badlands

**April 1 st, 2012 ( _Then_ )**

The first day, he can’t talk. He’s vaguely aware they’ve brought him to a hospital, but beyond that everything is a blur of pain and nausea. He phases in and out of consciousness and terrible nightmares that bleed in even when he’s awake. He feels like his bones are breaking all over him and his muscles rip apart in his burning skin. It’s better when he’s asleep.

He wakes up for real on day three, achy and with the mother of all headaches, but at least he’s pretty sure he’s human again. That’s a step up. Rolling his eyes open, he watches a nurse note something on the chart at the foot of his bed and then leave without noticing he’s conscious. He doesn’t stop her and he isn’t conscious for very long.

The second nurse notices when he wakes up while she’s around. She asks him some basic questions about how he’s feeling and he’s blunt about it. Apparently, some “nice accountant fellow” found him passed out in the middle of the street and had him brought in.

“What’s your name?” she asks and it takes him a second or two to remember.

“Tony.” Everyone knows him. What kind of rock has she been living under?

But she doesn’t recognize him, doesn’t even bat an eye at Stark, asks him who his parents are and where he lives, what his phone number is, if he remembers what he took. The doctor that comes by doesn’t know him either. Which is _insane_ because people always know him. People always know the old man. Tony starts freaking out but he keeps hold of it long enough to get a remote for the little TV mounted on the wall across from him, despite the fact that all the doctor wants to do is keep hammering away at _what did you take, kid?_

The news is on. He stares at it without really listening because the feed is all wrong, too clear and bright, too sharp. He flickers to the date listed clearly in the bottom right hand corner. The television thinks it’s year 2012.

The world around him falls away. That crazy magical hobo had sent him forward in time. Tony doesn’t laugh even though this is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard of. He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he throws up off the side of the bed.

The nurse rubs his back and gets a bucket under him even though all that’s coming out is bile. He hasn’t eaten anything and he’s been on IV fluids, but it feels like his stomach is trying to come up his throat. When it finally stops, she cleans things up with swift competence, helps him into the bathroom so he can clean out his mouth, and then he’s tucked back snugly in bed.

“You’re going to be all right, Tony,” she says, a soft smile on her face. All he can do is stare at her.

He checks himself out the next morning. Well. Not officially. What he actually does is just walk out the door and somehow no one even notices.

He doesn’t have his wallet. No id, no money, even if his credit cards still worked, which they probably wouldn’t. He doesn’t even have pocket change. Tony knows he should have probably stayed at the hospital considering he’s still shaky and nauseous, but he also knows that the moment he says anything about time travel, he’ll be making a short trip to the loony bin. No way he’ll figure out a way home from there. And of course there is a way home. He refuses to believe there isn’t.

Tony finds out where the nearest library is. Turns out, they have fifty computers for public use. _Free for public use_. With access to the _internet_. He pretends to not notice the typo but when he gets set up on one of the terminals (the actual computer is tiny as hell but the external monitor is nearly as big as a television,) he realizes this is not some intranet of library information. The internet is a thing. A huge thing. A ridiculous, _amazing_ thing. He’d known something similar was in the works because his dad had been excited about it, but that had been limited to military and scientific applications. The idea that this much data was freely accessible to the public, that it was this easy to communicate across the world... Tony barely knows how to accept it.

He finds a biography about Howard and Maria Stark. He sees himself listed as a mysterious footnote, a younger Jimmy Hoffa with less criminal background.

This is when he believes that he’s really in the future.

\----

**May 21 st, 2012 ( _Today_ )**

Tony doesn’t talk until hours into the second day Steve stays. He doesn’t really mind. When he’d first woke up, he didn’t really want to talk either, and he hadn’t been mind-controlled by a lunatic.

Tony is thirteen years old – almost fourteen, but Steve’s been too preoccupied to ask for when that will be – and has been through more than anyone should. It’s usually hard to remember just how young he is considering how streetwise and mouthy he can be, but right now Steve sees it in every inch of him. Tony looks small and tired, wrapped up in the sheets.

He’d spent hours on the floor before Steve managed to coax him back up to the bed where he might get some rest. After that, he’d slept about every other hour in two before nightmares brought him back up again. Steve... had not slept well, himself. He stayed dutifully in a chair by the bed so that Tony would see him every time he woke up. A nurse brought him coffee. It didn’t do much, not with his metabolism, but he enjoyed the warm taste.

Now it’s eleven in the morning, Tony’s been staring aimlessly at a wall for about three hours, and suddenly he says, “I want pancakes.”

Steve blinks, half because Tony had ignored the breakfast they’d been brought at eight, and also because where did that even come from? “I’ll ask a nurse-”

“Not those. I wanna try the ones at eyehahp. With, like, chocolate syrup and strawberries or something crazy like that. Caramel or cinnamon or lemon custard. I don’t know. I remember seeing an ad about it.”

Steve hasn’t actually discovered what eyehahp is yet. He steps over to the room’s phone and dials up Natasha. To her credit, she doesn’t even question his sudden need to ridiculously sugary breakfast food.

“I’ll have them send over a selection,” she promises. “No sense in having you get lost out there, Cap.”

“Thank you. I can pay on arrival-”

“Don’t worry about it. We owe you.” She hangs up before he can get another word in and he gives the phone a bemused look.

Turns out, it’s spelled IHOP and as ridiculous as the food is all piled up with fruit and whipped cream and different syrups, it’s pretty good. Steve eats well and watches Tony pick at the rest, but some of it goes down his throat, so Steve counts it as a win. Tony’s on some kind of IV and a heart monitor, but Steve’s been getting the idea that he’s not here because he needs to be. More that it’s somewhere he _can_ be. He’s not sure he and Tony should stay more than another day or so. Might be good for the kid to get some fresh air.

Midafternoon, Clint shows up. He gives Steve a little smile that fades as soon as his eyes fall on Tony. The two of them stare at each other like they can read minds. Then Clint invites himself to sit on the end of the bed and pulls out a pack of weird cards and declares loudly that they’re playing Uno and whoever wins has to flirt with the grouchy nurse at the nurses’ station. Steve rolls his eyes but Tony just picks up his dealt cards and Clint explains how to play.

The second time Clint and Tony tag team double reverse cards to skip him, Steve grumbles out, “This is a mutiny in the making, isn’t it?”

“I like to think of it as keeping you humble,” Clint replies cheerfully and there is the faintest ghost of a smile on Tony’s face.

“Humility is a virtue to aspire to, I suppose. That’s what my ma always said.” Steve shakes his head and finally gets to play a card.

Tony plays his next and then Clint smiles sweetly as he puts down a wild draw four for the _third time this game_. “Blue.”

There are no blue cards in Steve’s hand. Clint _knows_ that. Steve gives him a blistering glare as he draws four more cards, none of which are blue. “I’m starting to think you seeded the deck in your favor.”

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser, Cap. We’re modeling for the kid, after all,” Clint replies cheerfully.

“Are you the mom?”

“I’ll have you know that I look _fantastic_ in heels.”

Tony snorts a little and Steve’s chest feels warm inside.  

They play Uno for an hour or so before Clint wraps it up. He reaches over to muss up Tony’s hair, gaining him an indignant grumble, and gathers the cards up. When he gets going to the door, he catches Steve’s eye and motions for him to follow. Tony’s busy fixing his hair so Steve gets up and follows him out.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks once he’s pulled the door closed behind him.

“Eh, no less than before,” Clint admits with a shrug. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at Steve, studying his face a bit. “Don’t have a heart attack on me, okay? I’ve got some bad news.”

Steve sighs but grimly nods for him to continue. What next?

“Hate to break it to you, but apparently your apartment got caught in the rampage the other day. We’ve got a crew trying to salvage everything we can and box it up for you.”

It’s not as bad as Steve had thought it might be, but this means Steve gets to hunt for a new apartment and it was bad enough the first time. And he’s only been in the place for a matter of _weeks_. He rakes his fingers back through his hair like it might calm him (it doesn’t) and then switches over to fix it mode.

Weird, though. He hadn’t thought the devastation got that far.

“Is SHIELD willing to hold my things until I find a new place?” he asks, trying to shake the suspicions away, and Clint nods.

“We’ve got someone who can help you find it, too,” he assures and then immediately adds, “with no strings. Trust me, this isn’t SHIELD trying to convince you to sign on permanently. Though, if you decide to, I don’t think anyone’s going to question it. Might jinx things.”

Steve really doesn’t want to work for SHIELD, but the thing is he’s not sure there’s anything else he can really do. About the only skill he’d been able to cultivate before the war had been drawing (and stubbornness) but he doubts he’s good enough to make a living at it and he’s got no idea what the current art climate even is. He supposes he could go into manual labor somewhere and that’s good, honest work to be proud of, but a little part of him that’s got his pride all wrapped up in it thinks he’s meant for more. For better.

“I’ll think about it,” he decides finally and Clint gives him a grin.

“In the meantime, Chang’s picking up the cousin and they’ll be coming around. He flew in to meet the kid since we can’t seem to get Tony to him.”

Steve blinks. He’d honestly forgotten about Tony’s cousin, the only adult they’d been able to track down. Thinking about how vulnerable Tony is right now, Steve’s not sure it’s such a great time to make the introduction, but he doubts anyone will wait. And maybe this is better. More stable, safer. SHIELD had vetted this guy, after all.

He stamps down the part of him that wants to keep Tony where he can see him. This is no time to be stubborn or selfish.

“Oh, and Cap?” Clint says, dragging him from his thoughts. “If it’s anything like how I felt, Tony’s gonna need you to keep him grounded for a bit.”

Steve startles a bit. “What?”

“Look, I’m not saying- I just-” Clint cuts himself off, lips pressing into a firm, white line for a moment. “Just stay by his side, okay? What Loki did- It fucks you up inside. It really fucks you up, and I’m an adult who’s got experience being fucked up by people. Maybe he was only under for a little while, but... Loki made me _want_ to help him, Cap. I wasn’t- wasn’t _trapped in my own head_ or anything. He made me genuinely want to do anything to help him. I killed people and I didn’t care because they were in his way. And he did the same thing to that kid.”

Steve swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and his stomach goes tight. He can’t find the words to answer so he just nods, but Clint doesn’t seem to need more than that.

“I told Chang not to bring Morgan Stark by until tomorrow. Give Tony a little more time to... I dunno. Re-prefect his teen cool or something,” he says instead with another little shrug. “That kid needs a dog.”

“Somehow, I don’t think a dog can solve every problem,” Steve counters dryly.

“I have yet to come to a problem that adding a dog wouldn’t help.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Clint grins and there is only the barest edge of shadow in his expression. He’s healing, Tony will, it’s going to be okay. Clint heads off and Steve returns to Tony’s side.

“You can go, you know,” Tony says as soon as Steve sits down. “I’m not a baby. I don’t need a nanny anymore.”

“I’d look terrible in an apron,” Steve agrees. He leans back in his chair a bit. “Your cousin is going to come by tomorrow.”

The skin around Tony’s eyes tightens, but the rest of his face is oddly neutral. It’s the kind of look Steve would expect on an older man, the show of self-control to keep himself from giving too much away. Steve doesn’t know what it means that Tony’s already figured out how to do it.

“Great. Then it’s off to, what, London wasn’t it? Awesome. Maybe I’ll meet Queen Elizabeth.” His voice is flat and the sarcasm drips off every word in a way that is so like Howard, it hurts. Steve sighs, then braces himself for the inevitable caustic response he’s sure to get in for his trouble.

“Tony, you know Morgan Stark, don’t you?” he asks. Tony’s gaze goes intensely focused and his fingers tighten on the sheets. “Is he a bad person?”

Tony snorts and looks away. “Depends on your definition of _bad_.”

“Well, what kind of person is he?”

“Oh, you know. Smart, capable, a real up and comer.” His lips twist into a sneer. “The old man loved him. Might have left the company to him if-”

He stops and Steve waits, feeling like he’s on the very cusp of something big, something important. It’s confusing, the things Tony says, the hints he lets out when he’s not thinking. Did Morgan know where Anthony had been all those years and just never told Howard? Had he been helping Anthony escape something and then shielded his family, shielded Tony? Did he know what had finally happened to them and why Tony had been left alone?

None of it adds up. None of it makes sense.

“Tony,” he murmurs, “what happened to your parents?”

Tony stares off. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His fingers clench and release against the sheets. “They died.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

Steve’s brows furrow up because that isn’t “I don’t know how” so much as “I’m not _sure_ how _”_.

“You weren’t there?”

“No.” Tony looks down at his lap. “If I was... Maybe...”

Steve reaches out and rests his hand over one of Tony’s. The kid jolts, sucking in a swift breath, and then he swallows it down as he blinks a few times, his eyes gaining a wet sheen.

“He always drove like crazy,” Tony says and it comes out like a bitter laugh more than spoken words. “Dad loved fast cars more than he loved anything. Except maybe _you_. I mean, I could believe he died that way. I really could. It makes sense he’d wrap a tree someday.”

A car accident? Just like Howard. Steve frowns a little at the coincidence. Father and son dying the same way, it’s a little too-

“I could believe it,” Tony continues without noticing Steve’s confusion, “except it’s not _true_.”

Steve’s hand tightens over Tony’s. “And what is the truth?”

“I don’t know yet.” Tony reaches up and stubbornly scrubs at his eyes with his free hand, but he doesn’t move the other, makes no motion to dislodge Steve’s grip. “There’s nothing on the SI servers. And I didn’t have time to get deep enough into SHIELD’s mainframe to find the truth. The police don’t have a clue. I tracked down the official records weeks ago-”

“Wait, the police? There are police records?” If there were police records, why didn’t SHIELD know about them? How the hell had they missed it? “Tony, your father has been missing since 1984. How was that never reported to-”

Tony looks at him. He hesitates and the indecision is clear in his gaze, but then he says, “Dad’s not the one that went missing.”

“What-”

“ _I_ am _._ ”

Steve’s brain screeches to a halt. He doesn’t know how to even begin to understand that and if it weren’t for the way Tony’s looking at him now, tired and worn down and waiting, he’d think it was some kind of joke. But suddenly things slot into place. Suddenly, he realizes it’s the only thing that makes sense even though it shouldn’t.

“You’re Anthony Edward,” he says and somehow doesn’t quite manage to sound as stunned as he is.

“Only when Mom remembered I was there long enough to get mad at me.”

“ _How?_ You should be, what, forty?”

Tony shrugs a little and only then does he draw his hand from Steve’s, crossing his arms over his chest as his shoulders bunch up high. “What are you so surprised about, Mr. 1940s?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer and then pauses because Tony has a point. If anyone understands being out of time, it’s him. But this still makes no sense. Tony isn’t a super soldier. He’s just a kid.

“What happened?”

“I dunno.” Tony leans back against his piled pillows and stares off moodily. “One minute, I was getting ready for MIT, the next I’m in a hospital watching people on the television complain about a Muslim president.”

“He’s not, actually,” Steve corrects even though that is so not the most important thing, right now. (It is, in fact, something he had to be corrected on himself and then he was almost disappointed because it had seemed like such a great step for freedom.)

“Yeah, anyone with a brain knows that. The doctor had it turned to _Fox News_.”

While Steve hasn’t actually watched _Fox News_ , he’s heard enough disparaging comments that he gets the sentiment.

“There wasn’t anything else?” he presses and Tony shrugs.

“Just the weird magical hobo.”

Steve blinks and waits for the joke but Tony’s as serious as he’s been this whole time. “...Magical hobo?”

“Yeah, apparently that’s a thing.” Tony turns his eyes to the ceiling as his fingers tighten on his arms. “Look, can we stop talking about this already? I want to see if _Jerry Springer_ is on.”

He doesn’t want to but Steve relents anyway. There’s no sense in forcing it with him, but now he needs to talk to Fury. He needs badly to talk to him.

“All right,” he says. “We can stop.”

Tony grabs up the television remote from his bedside table and starts flipping through channels. He doesn’t settle on one for long and doesn’t even look up when Steve excuses himself to make a phone call. He means to use the phone at the nurses’ station, but the nurse (who is not at all grouchy, despite what Clint had said) hands him her own instead, saying something about the lines being down. He still has to walk out to a balcony waiting area to get a signal and then it takes five minutes to figure out just how to get a call out (why call it a phone when actually using it as a phone is so difficult?!)

“To what do I owe the honor, Cap?” Fury says once reception has connected Steve to him.

“I need to talk to you.”

“That’s generally what phones are for. What’s the problem?”

“Tony isn’t Howard’s grandson,” Steve lets out in a rush.

Fury goes quiet a moment and then asks, “Who the hell is he then? He’s got all the right genetic markers and he can’t be a clone-”

“He’s Howard’s _son_.” Steve’s pretty sure he sounds a little nuts right now. He feels it. “He won’t tell me the whole story but somehow he’s the kid that disappeared in ’84. Something about a magical hobo, I don’t know.”

Fury whistles. “Well. That’s one mystery wrapped up for another one that’s even worse. At least now we can stop looking for a middle man that doesn’t exist. I’ll get someone working on the magical hobo angle.”

“Really?”

“Look, Cap, you don’t know the kind of crazy shit I’ve seen in my life. I am not about to automatically say a magical hobo is outside the realm of possibility.”

Steve considers that he fought aliens a few days ago and teamed up with another one, as well as a guy who turns into a huge green rage monster, and concedes the point.

“Thanks,” he manages finally.

“Time traveling snark machine,” Fury grumbles bitterly. “At least Hill didn’t win the office pool. She would have been insufferable. All right. You get back to the kid. I’ve got work to do.”

He hangs up before Steve can get another word in. It’s getting to the point that Steve thinks all of SHIELD is trained to do that. Steve returns the phone to the nurse and goes back to sit with Tony while he watches ridiculous television shows for ten minutes at a time before flipping to another channel. Tony’s back to not wanting to talk about anything but when dinner comes around, he eats.

Steve still counts it as a win.

\----

The next day is better. Tony’s less withdrawn and talks more. The nurse removes the IV and heart monitor but says nothing about releasing him. Steve’s pretty sure by now that SHIELD is keeping him here on purpose, but he can’t say that he blames them. Tony’s not interfering with anything _or_ in danger while he’s here, after all.

Around one, there is a sharp knock on the door. What little progress Steve’s made with Tony abruptly drops to nothing.

“Come in,” Steve says and the door opens.

Morgan Stark is about what he’d expected. He’s tall and impeccably dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Steve’s apartment. His dark hair is cropped neatly short, a bit of gray starting above his ears, and even that seems tidy rather than rakish. The resemblance between him and Tony is strong and makes Steve wonder how much alike Howard and Edward had been.

“Good afternoon,” Morgan greets, smiling at the both of them despite Tony’s dead stare. His voice is deep and bold, the kind of voice that demands attention. “They told you I was coming, didn’t they?”

“They did,” Steve says as he gets up to shake his hand. “Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Morgan Stark, but I think you already knew that.” He grins at the joke and turns to Tony, who’ still glowering. “Well, young man! It’s good to meet you, too. Tony, is it? Just like your father to name you after himself. Not to speak ill of the dead, but that man was arrogant as sin back in the day.”

Tony’s jaw tightens.

“How was the flight?” Steve ask quickly, hoping to head off a fight he can see brewing.

“Oh, long. Boring. I fly all the time, but I never get quite used to it.” Morgan grabs the second chair and pulls it closer so he can sit near Tony’s bed. Steve slides back into his own. “So I hear there was quite the ruckus the other day. Something about aliens and a bunch of super heroes. What a day to be alive, eh?”

“Right.” Steve glances at Tony, who is keeping his mouth firmly closed. Morgan follows the look, lifting a brow.

“What’s wrong, boy? Cat got your tongue?”

Tony glares at him. “How about you drop the nice guy act already? We both know that’s not you and Steve won’t spread anything. What are you doing here?”

“Seems your father told some stories, did he?” Morgan leans back a bit, watching Tony closely. “All right. Let’s lay it out straight.  You may be kin to me, but I don’t have time to be chasing after some snot nosed brat.”

“Hey,” Steve says, but neither is paying attention to him no matter how dismayed he is at the sudden demeanor change.

“You don’t want me,” Tony confirms without sounding surprised.

“Never did like children. I’ll take you, I owe Uncle Howard that much even if your dad was a son of a bitch.”

“So leave me here.”

Morgan snorts. “And see the headlines when it comes out I didn’t take in my cousin’s displaced kid? Are you insane? No. I get enough bad press for making weapons.”

“I hate London. Too wet,” Tony says lightly, shrugging. “So what we need here is a cover story.”

Steve glances between them, wondering why he’s even here if they’re just going to ignore him. But the thing is, he’s invested in Tony. He needs to see things go well for him, and there is no way in hell he’s going to live with Morgan now. Not after watching this exchange.

“School,” he says and they both look at him. “He’s staying in the States for school. You don’t want to move him around or disrupt his education, so you set him up with a caretaker here.”

Morgan rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Hell, that might work.”

“I’m not going back to high school,” Tony snarls with feeling.

“So test out of it, get a GED,” Morgan says, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re a Stark. You’ll manage. I’ll set you up at Yale. Maybe Harvard.”

“MIT.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

Tony narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What do you get out of this?”

“What _don’t_ I get out of this?” Morgan smiles, sharp and cold. “I don’t have to look after you, the press is all happy I’m supporting my poor, orphaned cousin, and maybe in half a decade you come work for me. Or you don’t, I’m not picky as long as you’re not underfoot.”

Tony considers this. Then he rounds on Steve. “What do you think?”

“Well. You would get a good education out of it.” Steve’s not sure about anything else but a kid as smart as Tony needed to have it cultivated.

“Should I take this to mean you’re the caretaker?” Morgan asks, brows raising.

“He’s been staying with me the last couple weeks.” Steve shrugs a little. “It’s worked out okay.”

“What’re your credentials?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony bursts out. “Now you decide to actually care?”

Morgan rolls his eyes. “Kid, not taking you with me is bad enough. People find out I left you with some random guy off the street-”

“He’s freaking _Captain America_ , you idiot! No one’s going to be pissed about it!”

Morgan blinks and gives Steve a suspicious look. “You’re the guy they had running around in stars and stripes?”

“Captain Steven Grant Rogers,” Steve confirms.

“Pretty sure he’s _dead_.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. SHEILD’s working on a statement to the public right now.”

“He’s been vetted,” Tony grumbles. “Okay? The government types and everyone else. Trust me, the press is going to eat it right up. You’re the magnanimous benefactor, he’ll check up on me regularly, I’ll display my dizzying intellect, everyone’s happy.”

Morgan thinks about it, looking a little mulish, but his familial laziness seems to win out.

“We’ll need an official guardianship agreement drawn up,” he says as he tugs out his phone and starts tapping it. “I’ll have my people get started. That government fellow, Coulson, he said they were working on getting your papers in order. I’ll coordinate with them and set up an expense account.”

“Great. Go do that.”

Morgan snorts, shooting Tony an amused look. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t _exactly_ like your dad, kid. They’re lying through their teeth.”

Tony just rolls his eyes and Morgan gives a last nod to Steve before he leaves, eyes locked on his phone as he taps away.

“Well that was bizarre,” Tony says once the door closes, eying it suspiciously. “I guess he grew up a bit.”

“Maybe he’s just got other priorities now.”

Tony laughs all bitter and harsh. “Are you kidding? The guy wanted to steal Dad’s company when he was fifteen. Said Dad stole it from Uncle Edward back in the day. Dad used to say he was too stupid to live. I don’t know why he thinks I’ll believe he owes the old man anything. Morgan hated him more than _I_ did.”

And doesn’t that just paint the worst picture of what things had been like before Tony disappeared and Howard was still alive. Steve is itching to ask but he doesn’t. It’s not the right time and he’s go no right to pry. If Tony wants to tell him, he will. In the meantime, Steve will just pay attention.

\----

Natasha comes by with a small box that contains a brand new cellphone.

“Fury says it’s time to get connected,” she says in spite of Steve’s withering stare. “Also, we got you a hotel room until you find a place.”

Tony immediately snatches the phone from Steve’s hands so he can play with it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve tells her and Natasha just smiles. Even with bruising just barely visible past her make up, it’s a nice smile.

“I think we did.”

They settle down around Tony’s bed to look at the apartment brochures she brought with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon the random political statements, I've been pretty into it lately and I remember the ridiculousness that went on in 2012.
> 
> I almost left this at a cliff hanger but decided maybe y'all deserved a few deep breaths first, so it got put off to next chapter.
> 
> EDIT 12/16/15: Sorry for the long wait so far!! I got a new job at an art studio and we have been super busy last month and this month. The next chapter is about a quarter done right now and I have not had time to work on it further. However, things should slow down at the first of the year and I will have more time (and energy) to put into things that don't include my job. See you then!!


	11. Back Seat Confidential

Steve wakes up with a punch that misses. For a split second, he thinks he’s been captured. The room is too bright, curtains drawn away from the- Windows? In a holding cell? 

It’s strange enough that he jolts free from the dream and its general unease. He swallows the lump in his throat and takes a few deep breaths as he remembers everything. 

The hotel is not bad. Steve hopes SHIELD isn’t paying premium for it. His clothes are put away in the closet since he’s there indefinitely and there’s no sense living out of a duffle bag and having all his shirts wrinkle. Tony had given the bag Natasha brought him a glance over but then just dropped it beside the second bed once he’d extracted his scuffed but still functional computer from it.

They’ve got a room on the fifth floor with a nice view of the city. SHIELD is handling meals while they’re staying and though Steve worries a little about what the resulting bill is going to be (he has no illusions that this is  _ charity _ ) he has to admit that it’s kind of nice not to have to worry about cooking for the time being. He still hadn’t quite figured out most of the new ingredients yet and Tony had been getting sick of sandwiches.

Speaking of Tony. Steve glances across the room to watch Tony tap away at his computer, completely enthralled and apparently not bothered at all by Steve’s abrupt wake up from the nap. He’s sprawled on the bed with the computer on his knees and Steve’s not entirely sure how he’s not dropping it. Tony’s still not talking much, but he looks a little more here and now than he did in the hospital. Steve sits up and swings his legs down between the two beds.

“Can you pull up apartments for rent on that thing?” he asks, even though that’s a question he  _ does _ know the answer to. He may not understand the “internet” but he’s cottoned on to some of what it can be used for. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Wanna help me find one?” The brochures he’d been given hadn’t piqued his interest.

Tony pauses and looks at him from the corner of his eye. It was hard to read him before and it’s harder now when he’s still so muted. Times like these, Steve kind of wishes he could read minds. And then he doesn’t because that is  _ far _ more temptation than he likes.

“Okay,” Tony says finally and shifts to sit up properly, resting the computer on the bed in front of him. “What are you looking for?”

“Something not astronomically expensive.”

“So everything near Central Park.”

“Yeah.” It’s a shame, too, because he likes running in the park and his apartment had been close enough to be worth the walk. "And I'd rather stick to Brooklyn."

Tony pulls up a few results for Steve to look at. They’re about the same price as his old one, already ridiculously expensive but he knows that’s perfectly normal these days. Thing is, every result is a one bedroom.

“This place,” he says, pointing. “They got any two beds?”

There is a definite pause before Tony reaches over to check. He doesn’t look at Steve but Steve notices the hesitation anyway. What the hell had he been expecting, that he’d just make the kid sleep on the couch all summer?

The two bedroom options are, predictably, more expensive, but he does have the expectation of a stipend from Morgan Stark to help cover expenses for Tony. (The amount of money Stark is putting into the stipend account is outrageous, but helpful. Steve doubts he’ll use much of it every month, but he can always save it for when Tony’s older.) Steve hems over them with a frown and they look a little farther out. He knows SHIELD will throw a fit if he’s too far out of their radius, so that limits it a bit, but it turns out Tony’s pretty good at finding better deals. They pick out a couple places and Steve resolves to send them to the leasing agent SHIELD set him up with to check out, at least once he’s figured out the cellular phone.

It’s buzzed twice with messages he’s apparently received but he hasn’t figured out how to check them nor gotten frustrated enough to ask Tony yet.

“Are you like secret dating the jackboot?” Tony asks out of the blue and it takes Steve a minute to realize out just who he’s talking about.

“What?” Steve stares at him. “No. I just met her and I barely know her. Why?”

“So it’s someone else?”

“I’m not dating  _ anyone _ . I’ve only been out of the ice for a  _ month _ .”

Tony nods, accepting that, but then asks, “So is SHIELD setting you up with another agent?”

“They better not.” Steve glances between Tony and the computer. “What’s your sudden interest?”

“You want a two bedroom,” Tony says simply, like it explains anything.

“Of course I do. There needs to be space for your things.”

Tony stiffens and his gaze goes to laser focus, intent in a way Steve isn’t quite following. He opens his mouth once then closes it and looks at the computer.

“I’m going to school in the fall.”

“And?” Steve prompts, honestly confused.

“There’s no reason to keep a room for me if I’m not even going to  _ be _ here!”

Abruptly, things slot into place. Steve wonders how he could miss it. “So? There’s breaks, right? You’ll need a place to sleep between semesters. Keep your stuff. Do projects. I don’t know. What is it you’re wanting to study?”

“Robotics. Electrical engineering. Maybe something in physics. Or biochem.”

Steve wonders how much of the last bit has to do with Banner, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing to have a wide variety of interests, especially when his cousin’s given him permission to take anything he wants. He nods and then shrugs his shoulders. “So you’ll need your own space to keep all that straight.”

Tony stares hard at the computer screen. He doesn’t type, doesn’t talk, and for a little while, Steve thinks maybe he’s decided the conversation is over before he suddenly blurts out, “I want my own cell phone.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“And a bedspread with the Hulk’s face on it.”

_ What. _ “I... Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“And no cabbage ever, Mr. 1940s.”

Steve fights a smile. “Cabbage is good for you.”

“You are such a liar. There’s like nothing in it at all. It’s just gross filler.”

“It is  _ not _ .”

Tony grins wide. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ll try it. Once. For science.”

Steve decides that’s good enough.

\----

He’d thought he was going to SHIELD to meet the leasing agent, but when Fury has him waved on further in, Steve isn’t really all that surprised. He keeps a close eye on Tony, just in case the kid gets it into his head to make trouble. Fury hasn’t given him the full report on Howard Stark yet and Steve wouldn’t put it past Tony to decide to find it himself.

At least he meets up with Coulson after the second line of security. Coulson smiles mildly as they exchange a few pleasantries and then head on deeper into the building.

“Director Fury meant to be finished with this before you arrived but maybe you can help. He’s interrogating Loki Laufeyson,” Coulson explains and Steve doesn’t miss the way Tony stiffens at his side.

“You can wait out-” he starts but Tony cuts him off immediately.

“I’m going,” he declares with more authority than Steve usually manages on a good day. Steve glances Coulson’s way, but Coulson just smiles so he guesses they’re going to allow it. He doesn’t really want Tony anywhere near Loki but maybe Tony needs this. Closure, or something like it. 

They go through another security checkpoint and then down an elevator that needs Coulson’s keycard and hand scan to open. Steve thinks that’s a little much, then he remembers who they’re holding and wonders if it’s enough.

“-mockery of torture,” comes a silky smooth voice the moment the final door opens and Tony goes very, very still at Steve’s side. “I thought you were better at this, Director. The tales your men tell… Well. Suffice to say, they don’t feel warmly towards you.”

“Guess I’ll mark them off my Christmas list,” Fury mutters as Steve tries to give Tony’s shoulder a comforting squeeze only to have the kid duck out from under his hand and start forward with confidence he doesn’t feel. “Do you know why I haven’t shipped you off with your brother yet?”

“Some kind of bargaining chip, no doubt. I’m curious; is that working?”

“That is not your concern.”

“I’d argue it is  _ very much _ my concern, but I’ll let things lie for now. You’re about to be quite a bit busier, I think.”

A second later, Tony marches around the next corner and Steve picks up his pace to catch up. 

“Stark, Rogers,” Fury greets with a nod, calm as ever.

Behind him is something very much like the cage on the ship but even someone like Steve can tell that this is a whole other animal. The amount of shielding around the base and top, the sheer thickness of the glass, the obvious high powered weaponry anchored around the room and more he probably isn’t even noticing. This is more than just a cell. It’s an execution block. 

Inside it, Loki sits rather casually at a desk and chair, both bolted to the floor. There’s no sign of a bed or any other furniture, no books or papers, just Loki himself. A thick set of cuffs cover both his wrists, glowing with some kind of power that Steve has no idea the purpose of outside how it seems to be controlling his powers. 

Loki gives him a glance, brows arching, as if assessing an unwelcomed guest. He’s still showing signs from the battle, his clothes roughed up and hair finger combed and still messy. Asgardians are apparently almost impossible to kill, so he gathers from things Thor has said, but the Hulk had left impressive bruises that had lingered as well. The way he sits with his head propped up on one fist makes it all seem like purposeful dishevelment. 

“I feel I should inform you that it is rude to stare,” Loki drawls out slow and syrupy, “but fear the meaning will be altogether lost upon you.”

“My ma might agree with you,” Steve shrugs. “She always did have it in her head to make me a proper boy.”

“How sad her hopes were not realized.”

“Irish.”

Steve takes a little pleasure in the fact that Loki seems bewildered by that. He starts to smirk as he looks at Tony, but the mirth drains right out of him. Tony is intensely focused on the cage. His skin is pale, hands tightly fisted at his sides, and Steve realizes he should never have let him come down here.

“Tony-”

“Whatever is the matter, boy? Did someone damage that resourceful brain of yours when they woke you up? Pity. You were so useful.”

Steve wishes he’d developed teleportation powers with the serum so he could  _ punch Loki in the face _ . In lieu of that, he steps between the cage and Tony and doesn’t buckle when that Stark intensity gets redirected to him.

“Go wait at the door,” he says and he is not surprised when Tony ignores it and tries to step around him. Steve moves with him, reaching out to grab his arm. “The door, Tony.  _ Now _ .”

“Yes, do run along. The elders need to discuss your fate without your woefully lacking input.”

“Shut your damn mouth, Loki,” Steve snarls over his shoulder but it’s enough of a lapse in attention that Tony rips himself free and darts around Steve’s side. He evades another grab and Fury, the son of a bitch, doesn’t even twitch when Tony goes by him. 

Steve isn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t for Tony to rear back a fist and land a solid, loud, punch on the glass, having thrown his entire weight into it. Steve jerks him back from the cage even before Tony lets out a pained sob and starts cradling his hand to his chest. No blood but Steve would not be surprised if he’d cracked a knuckle and why hadn’t he been  _ fast enough! _

“I hate you!” Tony yells out as Steve forces him towards the door. “I hate you so much and I’m gonna find a way to kill you, just fucking watch me! You just wait! I’m going to put you in a hole so deep, no one will ever find your bones!”

Coulson catches Steve’s eye and takes over, putting an arm over Tony’s shoulders on the way out the door. As it closes behind them, Steve takes a moment to breath because he can barely handle his own rage. He had known this whole thing had done a number on Tony, knew there would be some kind of break, but… He hadn’t realized how mad  _ he’d _ be to see it. 

And the fact that Loki starts laughing low and mocking doesn’t help. 

“You know, the Geneva Conventions don’t technically cover aliens,” Fury murmurs. It sounds offhand but when Steve looks at him, his expression is full seriousness. 

“Oh? Are you going to show me some teeth, Director?” Loki’s lips pull into a smile that makes Steve want to break the glass so he can slug it off him. “I was wondering when you’d drop your false congeniality.”

“Don’t,” Steve says and he means it for both of them. He turns to the cage, eyes lingering on the bit of it Tony didn’t even scuff, much less break. “What’s your game now, Loki?”

“You wound me, Captain. How could I, a fairly defeated enemy, even hope to escape and destroy your miserable civilization?”

“So you don’t want to rule us anymore?” Fury folds his arms over his chest, growing more thoughtful. “From what I heard, you were desperate for an empire.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and his voice grows sharp. “I have an empire waiting for me. Once I’ve seized it from the Allfather’s cold, dead fingers.”

“You must be fun at family reunions-” Steve grumbles but Loki immediately turns on him with venomous rage.

“That man is not my family!” he snarled out, his entire body strung and tight with offense. “I was but a plaything to him, a distraction, a monster playing at being a man for his amusement! I will show him the full measure of my worth!  _ I will tear the still beating heart from his chest and use his bones to build a throne of my own! _ ”

Fury whistles low, but it sounds less like being impressed and more amused. Steve is just about sick of the posturing from both of them. 

“Hard to do any of that locked up in a jail cell,” Steve reminds him. “Are they any better on Asgard?”

This is enough to amuse the rage out of Loki, at least for now. He snorts dismissively, shaking his head. “No prison built could compare to what I have already experienced. Odin has little imagination.”

“Is that how you got hold of the Chitauri in the first place?” Fury presses, stepping closer to the cage. “Because they seem to be outside of Asgardian jurisdiction.”

“Asgardian jurisdiction is a joke, a mighty one swallowed down by every wretched Asgardian child and regurgitated through the ages,” sneers Loki, his lip curling. “The time of Odin’s empire has passed. With my guidance, he will  _ fall- _ ”

“With the Chitauri’s help?

“With the warmongering dolls they call soldiers-”

“And what do they get when you win?”

Loki laughs and the low rumble bounces and grows larger in the confined space. “They have no greater will of their own, soulless toys left over from a once mighty empire that has fallen to stronger forces.”

“What stronger forces? Who’s leading them now?” Steve doesn’t like the way Loki’s laugh becomes louder and more openly amused. 

“Oh, I would never make it so easy, Captain. However would you learn anything if I did?” He pauses, thoughtful, then smiles nastily. “Time will not be an asset to your education, I’m afraid. He is coming for you, for your miserable planet, and my temporary defeat with only slow him down so far.”

Fury shakes his head and says, “I think you’ll find it’s less temporary than you think.”

“Is this optimism, Director? I’m shocked.”

“I think practicality is on my side this time.”

Loki snorts. “The things I could reveal, if only I had some reason to do so. But I confess, it will be interesting to watch. Don’t forget to look for enemies from within. I think you’ll find them quite more distracting than the doom that shall be visited upon you.”

Fury’s gaze sharpens and he tries to get more information, but Loki clams up tight and refuses to say another word, that infuriating smile on his face. Steve tries to help with no avail and eventually, Fury calls it quits for now. He lets in the current guard, since Loki should never be left alone even if there  _ are _ cameras everywhere at all times, then waves Steve to file out with him. 

“Oh, Captain?” Loki calls just before the door shuts. They both turn and Loki’s smile widens. “I hope I am still here to watch him destroy all you’ve worked for piece by wretched piece.”

“I’m sure the extradition agreement with Asgard will have gone through before that,” Fury tells him and then shuts the door. “Why can’t aliens just want to invite us to their next bake sale?”

“Sir?”

“Nothing. Let’s go find Stark. He should be in medical. I’ll walk you out.”

“The leasing agent-”

“Oh. He’s out today. I’ll have him come by the hotel tomorrow.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He wishes he was surprised Fury and engineered a way to get him on site for that disastrous interrogation. He’s not sure what Fury wanted out of it but he’s pretty sure they didn’t get it, considering the still stormy look on his face. They move through the facility quietly, other agents ducking out of their way as they pass. Steve doesn’t blame them a bit.

SHIELD medical is a bit more chaotic than he expected but he still gets the same confident, controlled feeling from it that he had from the clinics he went to as a kid and during the war. Everything’s sterile and clean, organized, and the staff moves around with purpose. A young woman nods politely to both of them as they walk in.

“Director, Captain,” she greets with brusque efficiency. “Agent Coulson told me to let you know he’s gone to start his next assignment and will be in touch. Mr. Stark is in exam room three. He’s almost ready to go.”

“How’s his hand?” Steve asks as he remembers the way it had sounded when it hit.

“Small fracture of the proximal phalanges of his second and third fingers, nothing serious. We’re splinting them. They’ll heal in the next four to six weeks.”

Steve flexes his fingers and sighs a little. He’d forgotten how long it took most people to heal. At least it would heal before summer was up. Tony seemed to be fairly ambidextrous but he tended to write with his right hand more often and that could have made school difficult. 

A bit of movement brings up Steve’s attention and there’s Tony. The light blue and silver of his splints make it hard to miss but he doesn’t seem to be in a lot of pain, despite swelling he can already see. The nurse with him hands over a bottle of mild pain medication to Steve, which he glances over and then pockets. 

“Ready to go?” he asks and tries not to feel too disheartened about how Tony’s not looking at him.

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve gives Fury a glance but he just shrugs a shoulder and mouths out the word  _ teenagers _ . Steve signs a bit of paperwork since he’s been Tony’s official legal guardian for a few days now (and isn’t that just a kick in the pants. Three days and Tony’s already gotten hurt. He almost hopes Morgan Stark isn’t the type to check in all that often.) Then the three of them head out. Tony takes the lead, maybe because that way he doesn’t have to look at them, and Steve tries to feel like less of a kicked dog than he does. 

“I sent out the order to the leasing agent. He’ll come by at one tomorrow afternoon,” Fury says as they near the main elevator. 

“Thanks. I’d really like to stop living in a hotel, nice as it is.”

“Right. Now Cap, I know you’re pretty independently wealthy since we’ve gotten more of your person officially recognized by the government,” Fury starts and Steve is very much  _ not _ surprised when he continues, “but we could use a man like you with us on a more permanent basis.”

“Look, I’ll think about it, okay?” Steve tries, hoping it’ll head things off and not surprised when it doesn’t.

“Besides the physical enhancements, you’re smart and quick on your feet and you know your way around target rich environments. I’ve got guys with ten years experience who couldn’t keep up with you. And you’ve got command training and better yet know how to use it.” Fury stops them and turns all that intensity right onto him. It’s bad enough when Tony does it; Fury’s a lot more potent. “I won’t mince words; I  _ need _ you, Cap. There are things going on that I need another pair of eyes on, eyes I can actually trust.”

And isn’t that something to wrap his head around. “I said I’d think about it. Let me get settled first.”

Fury stares hard at him for a little while and then reluctantly nods. “You do that.”

The elevator dings and a little arrow lights up to indicate that a car is coming their way. Steve hopes it hurries.

“By the way. Stark, you excited about school?”

Tony makes a noncommittal noise and keeps staring at the floor countdown. Fury shrugs a bit.

“Guess you need to take him home to pout, Cap.”

Steve has kind of been thinking the same thing. The elevator dings again and the doors open. Steve starts to move towards it when Tony speaks up out of the blue. 

“Steve needs a shrink.” 

They all freeze, staring at him, and Steve feels a sudden flush of red hot embarrassment that he has no way of controlling. What on earth did Tony think he was doing?!

For his part, Fury doesn’t look surprised. He glances between them before settling on Steve and asks, “Everything okay, Cap?”

“Yes,” Steve says at the same time Tony says, “Nope.”

They turn to each other and Steve gives his best stern look he can but Tony’s possessed with a sudden stubborn protectiveness that Steve doesn’t quite understand.

“How many times have you actually slept through a whole night in the last week?” Tony barks out. “Do you want to talk about the nightmares? Or the flashbacks? Or how you went flat to the floor yesterday when that maid dropped a metal trashcan in the hall?”

Steve knows he’s gone completely scarlet. He can’t remember a time he’s been so mortified. One, that Tony noticed so much. Two, that he’s actually  _ telling _ . He turns to apologize to Fury, assure him that things are fine, he’s fine, everything is fine, even as a hot rage is starting to boil up inside of him- how  _ dare _ Tony-

But Fury is looking at him with a considering expression. “I’ll look into it. Nothing we weren’t expecting.”

“I’m really-”

“You say ‘fine’ and I’ll cart you down to psych right now.”

Steve shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth and then shoots Tony a dirty look, but the kid meets it with the a stubbornness that is even more annoying than when it had been in Howard.

“We’ll be in touch about it,” Fury says absently as he starts past them and Steve takes that as the cue to get the hell out of SHIELD already. When they get out of the building, he wastes no time in turning around on Tony to let him have it, but the kid is ready.

“Do you know what the leading cause of death in veterans is?” Tony demands before Steve can get a word out.

“What?! Where the hell did this come from? Tony-”

“Suicide. It’s suicide, Steve-”

“Tony, I’m not going to-”

“It’s stubbornness and depression and PTSD-”

“What does that even mean?!”

Tony throws up his hands in frustration. “Ask Google! It seems to know everything! You can’t just live the rest of your life pretending technology isn’t a thing!”

“Maybe I can!” Steve snarls back even though it’s childish and he knows better. He can’t believe Tony’s pushing like this about something so ridiculous he can’t even consider it. “People are too wrapped up in technology now anyway-”

“Like that’s even the  _ point! _ Did you hear any of what I just said?! People don’t just bounce back from stuff like this-”

“People do it all the time!”

“Have you even looked at the rates of veteran suicides right now!? And maybe you don’t see open combat all the time now, but before-”

“I already told you, I’m not going to-!”

“ _ Ahem. _ ”

Both of them freeze at the unfamiliar voice and turn to face a small family standing a couple feet away. It takes a minute for Steve to recognize Officer Davis out of uniform. With him is a pretty woman and young child, maybe six, both looking a little uncomfortable with the fight he and Tony had just been having. Steve sighs a little, reigns himself in.

“Sorry, Officer,” he says because he really didn’t mean to have this kind of conversation in public (or ever). 

“It’s a free street,” Davis says, glancing between them. “Everything okay?”

“Sure.” Tony’s mulish and pouty but he doesn’t seem ready to screech again, so that’s probably fine. 

“Yes, of course it is,” Steve begins but then the little boy pulls out of his mother’s arms to grab Davis’ hip and peek around him.

“Are you Captain America?” the boy asks, his dark eyes big and wide.

“Uh.” Steve’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be lying low, but it’s kind of hard to in the face of such earnest adoration. “Yeah. That’s me. My name is Steve Rogers”

“Wow,” the boy marvels and then he pulls at Davis’ sleeve. “Daddy! Daddy, _I_ _knew it was him!_ ”

“Yeah, you did. Good eyes, kiddo.”

The kid grins wide and then his mother moves around both of them. She says a quick “excuse me” and then throws her arms around Steve in a tight hug. Steve gives her a bewildered pat on the back while Tony eyes her like he thinks she might put a knife in his back. The woman lets go and steps back with a gentle, slightly embarrassed smile.

“You made sure Jefferson came back to me,” she says, taking his hand in her own, and Steve’s chest goes tight and uncomfortable. “Have you eaten? We came up on an errand but I’ve got enchiladas just waiting to be baked at home and plenty for a couple more mouths-”

“Rio...” Davis sighs but the little boy starts bouncing on his toes beside him.

“Oh, oh, please come!” he squeaks excitedly. “Mom makes the  _ best _ enchiladas-”

“I’m sure Captain Rogers has things he needs to do,” Davis tries vainly and Rio turns to give him a stern look.

“It is the  _ least _ I can do to thank the man that helped  _ save New York and my husband _ ,” she reminds him and it is so much like Steve’s mother would have that he feels a pang of painful affection for her. 

“I had it handled!” Davis insists and Rio rolls her eyes.

“I’m sure you did,” she says sweetly as the little boy peeks at Tony and gives him an enthusiastic wave. Steve glances over himself because he is the worst caretaker ever and had almost forgotten Tony was just standing there watching. Tony’s got his “I am so not bothered right now, look how unbothered I am,” expression on but he wiggles his fingers a bit in the kid’s general direction.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Rio suddenly says, grabbing Steve’s attention back. “I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Rio, Rio Morales. This is my son Miles. Say hello, Miles.”

“Hello, Miles,” the kid repeats cheerfully and it’s more than enough to bring a little smile to Steve’s face. 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m going to be an astronaut when I grow up so I can go find all the  aliens for you!” Miles proclaims proudly and Steve is not sure what to think of that (mainly because he only found out about the space program about a week ago and still hasn’t quite wrapped his head around it.) 

“It’s good to have goals,” he decides and Rio chuckles a little as she ruffles Miles’ short hair affectionately. 

“Oh, I meant to say.” Davis lowers his voice a bit, leaning more to Steve as Rio fawns over Miles and starts chatting up Tony. “Sorry to hear about the bombing. Amazing what some people will do.”

“Bombing?” Because this is the first he’s heard of anything other than the alien attack. 

“Yeah, your apartment. It’s a shame.”

His apartment? Steve stares at Davis like he’s nuts. Because that’s not what Clint had said. “They told me it was the aliens-”

“That far? Not unless it was one with a particular grudge. There’s no damage for miles except your place.” Now Davis is the one giving him the side eye but Steve doesn’t really mind it because he’s suddenly too preoccupied with the fact that Clint had lied to him. If a police officer knew it hadn’t been the aliens, SHIELD surely did and had chosen to tell him that anyway. 

Before he can ask more questions, he hears Rio say, “You must be so proud of your father’s courage, Tony.”

“Oh, uh.” Tony blinks at her, wide eyed. “He’s not, really. My dad. Steve’s just kind of stuck with me right now.”

“Willingly,” Steve interjects before he can stop himself. “I chose this. Remember? We made a deal.”

Tony doesn’t look at him, stares off into the street, but his cheeks are colored and he doesn’t look  _ upset _ , so it’s probably okay? And then Rio gives him the warmest look he can ever remember receiving only to hug Tony with all her might, despite the squawk she gets in response.

“You’re so lucky, Tony. So many kids in the system get lost between the cracks.”

“Rio, maybe stop accosting strangers on the street,” Davis reminds her and Rio lets go with a last squeeze. Tony stumbles back a step and ends up a little behind Steve, like he thinks Steve will protect him from motherly affection. Which is not a good bet, honestly.

“Right, sorry, I get a little carried away sometimes,” she murmurs with a bigger smile. “So? Dinner? Interested?”

“Today’s been pretty exciting so far.” Steve hates to disappoint her but he’s pretty sure neither he nor Tony could really hold up to the attention right now. “It’s probably best we get back to our place and wind down.”

“Aw, man,” Miles pouts and Davis gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Another time, maybe?” Rio shows another beaming smile and they say their goodbyes. Miles continues to pout but pauses it long enough to chirp out “Bye Mr. Captain!” before they head their own way. 

“Well that was only completely mortifying,” Tony grumbles. He tries to stuff his hands into his pockets only to flinch when his splint catches the edge. He drops them straight again, jaw tight. “Can we just go back to the hotel already?”

“I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Steve hails a cab and they get back to the hotel. He’s not surprised when Tony grabs his laptop and proceeds to completely ignore Steve’s existence. Steve’s kind of glad for that. He doesn’t really want to rehash just yet or wonder what kind of head doctor Fury might shove his way. Steve flops back onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He misses the days before the war a little. He might even take his old body if it meant a little peace for a while. Steve closes his eyes and tries to rest.

\----

Steve wakes up feeling a dip in the mattress. He twists a bit to his side, bringing an arm around, but it’s just Tony. The lights are off but there’s enough light from lamps outside to see edges and when did it become dark?

“I’m sorry I told Fury about the nightmares,” Tony says all in a rush, “but you need to talk to someone.”

Sighing a bit, Steve sits up and rubs sleep from his eyes. He is so not ready to do this but he gets the feeling he probably should anyway. “Apology accepted, I guess.”

“I just don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not-  _ Tony _ .” Steve reaches out to him but Tony leans away from his hand so Steve just drops it at his side again. “I’m not going to die.”

“The old man said that, too.”

Oh, hell. Steve closes his eyes tight a bit. “Your dad didn’t have super strength. I’m not going to die on you, kid.”

Tony’s quiet and Steve feels the way he shifts in place, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m not. We went over this. I asked to be- I’m not  _ stuck _ with you. I chose to keep you around.”

“Because of my dad.”

“Because of  _ you _ .”

“But if I wasn’t here, you could- You could date the jackboot and get married and have a mess of kids and I don’t know, make a real life-”

“First of all,” Steve interrupts. “I’m  _ not _ dating Natasha. And don’t call her that.”

“...When the shoe fits,” Tony says more quietly and it gives Steve a little hope he’s actually making it through to him.

“Secondly… well.” Steve hesitates a bit. This might be too much for a kid, but… “Secondly, I can’t exactly  _ have _ kids.”

Tony twists around and light from the street catches his eyes, making them seem wild in the relative dark. “What? Don’t even start with that. Girls would fall all over you if you knew how to flirt.”

“ _ Hey _ .”

“It’s not like modern girls aren’t looking for big strong meatheads.”

Steve rolls his eyes and is actually legitimately sad Tony can’t see it. 

“ _ Someone’s _ bound to be into you.”

“That’s not the problem.” Steve leans back on his hands and decides he might as well just get it out there in one go. “I’m saying  _ I _ can’t have kids. I got sterilized before the procedure.”

Tony stills. “Sterilized, like-”

“Probably something like what you’re thinking.” Steve rubs his fingers against the comforter to center himself. “I hear it’s not as common nowadays, but back in the 40s… Well. I agreed to it when the army took me. If it failed, they didn’t want more guys like me. I wasn’t exactly healthy stock. And it’s not like I expected to have any before that. Girls like a guy that can get up a set of stairs without wheezing.”

Tony doesn’t answer. He stares at Steve a while, then turns to the window. His whole body is coiled tension and offense and Steve’s not sure how to fix that exactly. He regrets saying anything at all.

“But the serum healed you,” Tony manages after a few minutes. 

“Healed most things,” Steve agrees. He scratches through his hair a bit, then offers, “Even if I could, I wouldn’t throw you away, Tony. You need to know that. I’m in this for the long haul.”

Tony sucks in a hard breath and sags, his head falling forward. “You haven’t been around me long.”

“Long enough to know you’re a cocksure little bastard,” Steve counters with a lifted brow. “And I think you’ve probably figured out I’m pretty much the same thing.”

“Eh.” Tony shrugs a shoulder and some of the tension is leaking out of him. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“I’ll work on it,” Steve agrees. “In the meantime, what time is it?”

“Uh. Little after two, I think.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “So shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Pft. I guess.”

Tony gets up and goes to his own bed, fussing with the sheets. Steve watches, catching the edges of movement from the street lights. He waits until Tony actually slips into bed before he says, “We’re gonna be okay, Tony.”

“Mm. Sure.”

He doesn’t sound like he believes it. Steve resolves to fix that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait but here you go! I hope it makes up for that, it's a bit longer than usual!


	12. This House Is On Fire

Tony figures out the cell phone in the morning and then teaches Steve how to use it. It’s not as hard as Steve had thought but it’s still awkward not to be able to use a traditional receiver. The square design of the phone feels strange in his hand and the flat glass plane is even weirder at his ear. He doesn’t mention it, mostly because he’d rather not be teased after how quickly Tony had caught onto it, but somehow Tony figures it out because he finds a picture of some kind of normal phone receiver plugged into the flat thing masquerading as a phone and asks if he should order one for Steve’s birthday.

It is a little sad that he almost says yes.

He checks various messages he’s gotten in the days since he got the phone and none of it is pressing. Clint and Natasha both sent him messages so he would have their number (It takes Tony two seconds to figure out how to save them in the contact list.) Apparently someone set up an “email” account (and Tony admits he only knows what that is because he had to set one up when he got the laptop so he could join some kind of forum for “cool nerds, of which I am totally not one”) through the phone because a formal email from SHIELD is there detailing various ways of contact and a list of available certification and training programs available just in case he’s interested in them. He’ll give Fury that one; the man is certainly persistent and Steve can’t say none of the programs are piquing his interest. It’s probably of use to at least get a refresher in first aid, since technology has changed so much.

He lets Tony fiddle with the settings but adamantly refuses to let him change the signal ring to the musical abomination apparently named  _ Karma Chameleon  _ or the ear splitting  _ Girls Just Want To Have Fun. _ Actually, he vetos every song Tony suggests and decides on a tone sequence that sounds the most like the phone his mother had owned when he was young.

As a consolation, he lets Tony add a game onto the thing and then watches Tony spend half an hour tapping little exploding groups of candies. Steve doesn’t quite get the appeal but he’s starting to wonder if getting Tony a cell phone of his own is such a good idea. The kid is glued to his laptop when they aren’t outside the hotel and Steve has notions that it’s probably not the best idea to encourage it. Do kids regularly play outside in the future? Should he take Tony to the park? He remembers sometimes seeing families when he went on runs, but...

Before Steve can conclude (again) that he is a terrible choice for guardian, there’s a knock at the door. Natasha gives him a little smile and a nod of her head by way of greeting, but a second woman immediately holds out her hand and says cheerfully, “Well, Captain Rogers, as I live and breathe! It’s so good to meet you. I’m Angela Bennett and I’m gonna find you somewhere to live!”

“Uh, sure. Thank you,” Steve manages, getting a second of enthusiastic handshake before Ms. Bennett pushes her way past him to set her bag on the little desk beside the television stand. She reaches in and starts dragging out brochures before Steve can even get the door shut after Natasha.

“Don’t worry dear, I brought everything on paper for you; they warned me you might be a little cross with my tablet,” Ms. Bennett says brightly, organizing things into tidy stacks. Steve gives Natasha a glance but she just lifts her brows and shows him absolutely no sympathy or help before going to greet Tony, who’s still playing the candy game.

“Thanks?” Steve sits on the end of his bed and Ms. Bennett shoves the first brochure into his hands.

The apartments are big and airy and expensive. Ms. Bennett babbles about various luxuries Steve keeps trying to remember are normal, everyday things now, takes that brochure and switches to a new one. They’ve gone through more than Steve’s bothered to keep track of when Natasha and Tony get up and file out the door with some word about picking up dinner. Steve tries not to feel like he’s been left alone in enemy hands.

“You know, there are several affordable houses I can look into if you like,” Ms. Bennett pipes up suddenly, thoughtful rather than bouncy. “A man like you needs flexibility and privacy!”

Steve looks up from his current brochure and blinks a little. “What, really?”

Because the fact is that only rich people lived in  _ houses _ in New York. He guesses that’s different now, too. He’s never really considered owning a house because there was no way in hell he’d ever afford it. No one he knew lived in a house, not before joining up with the army. It just wasn’t a thing guys like him did. He doesn’t even know how much a house would be back in the 40s, much less now.

Something occurs to him, though. “Hey, I don’t guess you could… look in a different city?”

“Which one?” Ms. Bennett asks, blinking owlishly. “I thought with you working for SHIELD, you’d want to be close.”

“I’m not actually working for them. Er.  _ Yet _ . Possibly not ever.” Steve is slightly annoyed that’s what she’d be lead to believe, actually.

“My mistake! You know what they say about assuming, makes a mess out of the lot of us. Where were you thinking?”

“It… I’m not sure yet, but… Maybe you could look into Cambridge?” He takes a breath, wondering where this has even come from. He’s never lived outside of New York except with the Army and he doesn’t quite count that. Still, it could be okay. And if he lived in Cambridge, it’d be a lot easier to keep watch over Tony at MIT. Close enough and they wouldn’t even have to worry about dorms. “I haven’t decided on it, but… I’d like to know my options.”

Ms. Bennett whips out a tablet from an inner jacket pocket (and Steve isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that this is getting less weird to him) and taps at it for a minute or so. “Well, the market isn’t too bad and my sister’s a realtor out there. Not as good as  _ me _ but she can get me some places to look into for you if I split part of the commission with her. Oh, but then I won’t get to lord it over her doggone head at Christmas… Drat. Oh well, best for the customer and all that...”

Steve mostly just nods as Ms. Bennett talks to herself, but by the end they’ve ironed out exactly what Steve is looking for and make plans to meet up again so she can show him what she’s found. She skies out the door about how she came in and with the hotel room still and quiet around him, Steve feels a bit like he’s just survived a hurricane.

He stands awkwardly next to his bed and then starts picking things up. He’s not sure when exactly Natasha and Tony left but it seems like they should be back soon and he finds himself hoping that’s true. He hadn’t realized it but he hasn’t really been alone since taking Tony in and he hadn’t been doing that well before.

Steve wonders if Fury is really going to get him with some kind of headshrinker or if he was just trying to soothe Tony. He knows things have changed a lot since his time, but he can’t even imagine this to be a simple or even common thing. People didn’t see shrinks unless there was a problem, unless it was too obvious to ignore or get over on their own, and that made them  _ broken _ . He’s been pretty down sometimes and yeah, there’s the whole… The things Tony should not have  _ told _ about, but sure, he’s got some problems, he’s still fine. He can fight when he needs to, take care of himself. He can figure this out, just like always.

He is not a  _ coward _ .

Steve closes his eyes, breathing in slow and deliberate to calm himself down. All his life, Steve has never run away from anything, even when he probably should have. He’s never turned away from wrongs he’s seen, never said no to a duty that needed doing, never skipped something just because it seemed hard. He never regretted that, either. It’s just how he is, how his ma taught him to be. Sarah Rogers would have busted his ass raw herself if he’d started running. Most folks used to think he was just that kind of kid, the kind that didn’t know how to quit, and he’d hear them commiserate with his ma about it. And damned if she didn’t just pat their shoulders reassuringly and tell them how glad she was people understood her, only to cackle about it later because she’d been the one to teach him to be that way. So many folks hadn’t had any idea just where his ma had come from before settling in New York with his father since she got so good at hiding her accent.

Times like that he always wondered what his father was like, but he can’t have been that different from her, considering the kind of man she’d raised Steve to be. He’s never really missed his father’s presence but right now he misses his ma like nothing else. She would have known the right thing to say to him and help him figure out the answers from there, the right thing to do so all this would fade off and he’d stop feeling all this confusion.

He misses having people to talk to that actually understood him.

Steve glances at the door a moment before realizing he’s hearing familiar voices coming down the hall. They’re quiet but Steve’s super soldier hearing is hard to control and way stronger than he likes most of the time.

“You can’t tell him I told you,” Tony’s saying and Steve’s chest clinches up tight wondering just what it is he’d revealed, what Natasha now knew. “He’s already mad at me.”

“Didn’t seem mad,” Natasha replies airily and she’s right, Steve has no idea why Tony thinks he’s mad this time. “But whatever you say, kid.”

Tony makes a little noise of agreement and then the footsteps stop a little ways from the door. “So, d’you wanna do the horizontal mambo with Steve?”

_ What _ . Steve covers his eyes. He is going to  _ kill that kid. _

“Colorful imagery.” It sounds like Natasha is smiling through the sarcasm. “Somehow, I don’t think he’s up for a woman like me.”

“You don’t seem  _ that _ bad.”

“They didn’t name me Black Widow because it was  _ funny _ .”

Tony’s quiet a moment, then he says, “So you’re the surviving type. That’s good. Steve’s had a bad enough time.”

Steve glances at the door over his fingers. Tony’s voice had been softer, almost cracked there at the end. He wonders just what is going on with this kid.

“He’ll live without me,” Natasha tells him with certainty. “Seventy years isn’t that big a problem.”

_ Except when it is. _ But Steve still feels a little warm over the vote of confidence. Natasha hasn’t seemed the sugar coating type in the weeks he’s known her.

“Maybe you should start writing for him because his origin story is  _ way _ too angsty and he needs a new writer,” Tony mutters, closer now. Natasha snorts and Steve finds himself shaking his head with rueful amusement.

“I’m working on that,” she says finally. Then she gives the door a sharp rap before they open it with Tony’s key card. Both of them are carrying bags but Natasha shoves hers into Steve’s hands and then goes to pull a container out of Tony’s much smaller one.

“You survived,” Natasha says absently, opening the container and sniffing the contents with a satisfied look.

“Sometimes I’m lucky,” Steve agrees and then starts sifting through the bag. There are four containers of various food he’s learned to call Chinese even though none of it looks like the stuff the Chinese family on the fourth floor had made in his youth. Some of it is sweet and some of it spicy and all of it is new and he still hasn’t decided if he’s okay with that.

He really needs to stop getting lost in his head. Steve gives the fried rice in his hands a hard look. Maybe part of the problem is that he’s  _ bored _ . Idle hands and all that. He’s never had a time before this when he didnt have work to do or tasks to finish or something to fill up the waking hours. Since he’d been unfrozen, he’d had little  _ other _ than free, unstructured time. The recovery efforts had politely turned down his offer to help any further, he doesn’t have a job, he isn’t in school, and he still stubbornly refuses to join SHIELD. At this point, it’s almost purely out of spite.

Steve glances up to see how the others are doing and finds Natasha staring right at him. One of her thin brows lifts, almost like an invitation to talk, but he’s got no idea what exactly she wants from him.

“I want to buy the entire Panda Express franchise and hoard every piece of orange chicken on the planet,” Tony says abruptly and the sheer randomness of it has Steve barking a surprised laugh.

“That may be a little out of your pay scale,” Natasha says dryly and then she steals a piece from Tony’s container. He squawks with outrage and then Steve watches them squabble like siblings. It makes him think of Bucky’s sisters and then his throat gets tight and his appetite wanes.

He misses his old life. He misses his best friend. He misses the way life made sense and the food tasted right and he knew where he was going, even if it was an early grave. He misses being able to depend on Bucky pulling him out of his own mistakes so he didn’t have to consider consequences.

He does his best to hide it but when Natasha gets up to leave for the night, she motions him to follow her. He doesn’t want to but it’d be hard to play that off and harder to explain it, so he tugs the door shut after him once he’s seen that Tony’s just back on the stupid candy game.

“There’s marksmanship and hand-to-hand testing tomorrow morning at nine,” she says abruptly, tugging out a piece of paper from her jeans pocket and shoving it into his hands. It’s hand written, a volley of dates and times and places that would surely keep him busy if he had any intention to go to any of them. “At one, you need to be in medical for a physical and to receive the rest of the vaccinations that they started when you woke up. And once they’re finished with you, they’ll send you to meet Dr. Garner.”

For a moment, Steve can only stare at her. She meets his incredulous gaze without flinching and daintily folds her arms.

“...Who is Dr. Garner?” he asks a little helplessly.

“Your new therapist. We called in a favor. You will not miss this appointment.”

Steve’s stomach knots up. Natasha knew. Fury had told her because Tony had told him. Who else knew? Coulson? Barton? Banner?  _ Thor? _ Who else would be let in on his shameful lack of control? His jaw tightens so much he’s surprised his teeth don’t crack.

“Steve,” Natasha says in a quieter tone, reaching out to touch his hand. “You need this.”

“Do I?” he finds himself snarling back with viciousness he wasn’t expecting. She doesn’t seem offended by that, instead just watching him steadily. He hates her for being so detached.

“You need this,” she repeats and then gives a quick glance to the door. “You know why.”

All at once, the building anger in him turns to icy cold water running through his veins. He’d almost forgotten that he’d hurt Tony after that nightmare, that he’d scared him, and that Tony had pretended it wasn’t a big deal. Steve swallows hard and looks at the piece of paper crushed in his hand. He starts smoothing it out. Natasha lets him have time to slow his breathing and calm down.

“What about the morning stuff?” he manages and her lips curl into a little, secret smile.

“The marksmanship is because I think you need to blow off some steam. The other one… There’s a combative new kid who needs to get knocked down a few pegs. I told the instructor not to let them know who you are. Consider it a favor.”

Steve snorts because as messed up as he feels inside, he can’t help thinking well about knocking bullies back in their places.

Natasha pats his shoulder and then pokes her head back in to tell Tony goodbye before she heads off. Steve watches her go and wonders just how to feel about her.

\----

The marksmanship trials are about as soothing as Natasha thought they would be. Steve isn’t quite rusty but this had never been his specialty. He does about as well as he ever has, which is still pretty good for the group. Passable, which makes him feel good at least.

The hand-to-hand… As it turns out, the troubling folks in training don’t recognize him out of the suit, especially since their superior doesn’t introduce him when he shows up to join them. They’re overconfident and cocky, ribbing each others and viciously teasing the guy Steve picks out as their usual punching bag. He wonders for a minute if he’s some kind of plant because the guy is short and thin and blond, but he kind of doubts the vibes of familiarity are faked.

Steve gets put into the first match up with the cockiest bastard of the group. He tries not to feel good about knocking the kid off his feet with a single solid hit and fails gleefully. The rest of them laugh and jeer but when he does the same thing to the second one, they start losing the mirth. By the time Steve lets them go, they are quite a bit more humble. The skinny kid isn’t that great with his fists, but Steve had noticed him watching carefully so he could learn how to be. It’s heartening.

Their superior shakes his hand with a respectful, “Thank you, Captain.”

The punching bag has a sudden look of absolute clarity and stares with open awe. Steve gives him a nod of approval before he heads off to medical before the utter amount of starstruck wears off and he has to actually deal with it.

There is no where he would rather be less but he’s not sure what Natasha would do to him if he didn’t show. Besides, he’s not running from this. He’ll show this Dr. Garner that he’s perfectly fine and handling it and then this will all be over.

And some day he is going to figure out a career where he doesn’t have to submit himself to physicals. The whole process is as annoying and aggravating as he remembered from last time and he is fairly sure they take more samples than they really need and run more tests than is necessary. They don’t put him through an entire fitness regimen but it’s a near things. And then the injections start as they get through the latest round of vaccinations. Make no mistake, Steve is very grateful for the medical advances that have given vaccines to the world and basically eradicated several diseases that had rampaged in his day, but even he gets sore after so many needle pricks. By the time he’s out, Steve wants to swear at all of the doctors and upset their apparently delicate modern sensibilities.

(He really, really needs to figure out why everyone keeps treating him like a five year old kid. The television would have him think everyone and their grandma swore like sailors but the utter control these people have over their language in real life is baffling. He’s not even sure some of them are really not robots. He wonders if they do this to everyone or if he’s just a special case. )

As it turns out, Dr. Garner doesn’t have an office of his own, at least not at SHIELD. The psych department has given him use of one of their offices and seem fairly surprised he’s in at all, like there’s some kind of hushed up secret around him. Steve doesn’t know what to think of that, but he keeps reminding himself that he just needs to get this over. He’s got this. He can do this. It’s almost over.

When Steve gives the door a polite knock, he hears a low, mild voice welcoming him inside. So far, so good. Dr. Garner is a tall, broad shouldered man that isn’t quite what Steve was expecting. He has a solid handshake and a mild smile that surprisingly doesn’t turn patronizing at all as he asks Steve to sit down.

“I just want you to know,” Steve finds himself saying preemptively, “that while I have utmost respect in what you do, I really don’t need this.”

Dr. Garner’s brows lift a little but he seems more amused than surprised. “I’ll be honest, that’s something I heard a lot from SHIELD agents back in the day.”

“I don’t work for SHIELD.”

“That’s funny because both Agent Coulson and Director Fury called in some pretty big favors to get me here for you.”

Steve’s not sure what to think about that. He shifts uncomfortably in the chair that seems to be trying to swallow him up in plush softness. Dr. Garner lets him stew a few moments, just watching, and then he leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees.

“We’re not really here to talk about your relationship with SHIELD right now,” he says lightly and while there is still a hint of a smile to his mouth, Steve can hear a more stern undertone coming to his voice. “I’m told you’ve got some nightmares.”

“They’re nothing I can’t handle,” Steve says immediately but Dr. Garner gives him a look that makes him feel like a naughty child instead of a twenty-six year old man.

“It seems little Tony doesn’t agree with that.”

Steve glances off, studying little things around the office without really holding onto any of it. “He thinks a lot of things are worse than they are.”

“I’ve read the brief of your history, Captain. There’s some very distressing things you’ve experienced.”

“Look,” Steve says, exasperated and getting uncomfortably angry, “I don’t know how it is these days, but in my day, a man did his duty. I did what I had to and I’m not going to sit here and complain about it. There were a bunch of us out there. I could fight the good fight so I  _ did _ .”

Dr. Garner leans back in his chair again, resting his chin on one fist as he considers him. “You didn’t start out that way.”

“Is that what you think this is? You think the vita rays did something to my head?”

“Not particularly. But it’s interesting that  _ you _ brought it up.”

Steve gets up, too antsy not to move around. He’s not even really aware of pacing except that it helps the nervous energy in him a little. “The procedure went  _ fine.  _ The only side effects where what they wanted to happen.”

“And you? Did you get what you wanted out of it?”

“Well I wasn’t going into asthma attacks on the  _ stairs! _ ” Steve stops because he didn’t mean to yell and he’s not even sure why this is upsetting him. He rakes a hand through his hair and takes a moment to breath. “I got to fight. That’s what I wanted and I got it.”

“Not at first.”

“So what? I got into it when it counted.”

Dr. Garner makes a quiet, thoughtful sound as he considers him. It makes Steve’s skin crawl. He is so sick of everyone around him making silent judgements about him. It’s happened his whole life but at least during the war they tended to think he was doing good. These days, he’s not sure if SHIELD wants to use him or stuff him in a little box under twenty layers of concrete.

“How about you tell me about the nightmares?” Dr. Garner suggests and Steve shrugs a little, going back to pacing.

“They’re really not that bad.”

“Then it shouldn’t be much trouble to talk about them. I’d just like to know what they’re of.”

Steve draws in a slow, steady breath. He considers what to tell, what to keep close to his chest. What sounds normal to people these days? What might spark things he really doesn’t want to deal with right now?

“Just so you know,” Dr. Garner says more casually, “I’m pretty good at figuring out when people are lying to me, even by omission.”

“I’m not going to lie to you!”

“See, you just did.” Dr. Garner’s smiling again, soft and amused. “It’s okay, Captain. Most people do. They think I’m here to make judgments about them, ruin their lives, the whole gambit. That’s not my job.”

He gets up and steps close, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m not your enemy. I just want to help.”

Steve’s not sure about this but Dr. Garner seems okay, for the most part. He doesn’t have any of the cold countenance of the field medics or the harried, overworked nature of the army shrinks. There’s an earnestness to him even if the whole situation makes Steve just want to walk out the door.

Dr. Garner searches his face a moment, then asks, “Would you be more comfortable if we took this somewhere else?”

“I… Yeah, probably,” Steve admits, shoulders sagging. “But I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

The doctor laughs, shaking his head a little, then goes to pick up his jacket from the back of his chair. They head out of the office and along the halls, and Steve does actually feel better not being cooped up in the windowless office. There’s something freeing about long halls, but he knows it’ll be better once they’re outside.

“It’s the ocean,” Steve finds himself saying as they walk. He doesn’t look at Dr. Garner and he’s not even sure why he’s saying this now.

“That’s understandable, considering your last mission.”

“Sometimes I dream about other missions or just the war, but… Mostly it’s that.”

Dr. Garner glances to him a moment and then looks ahead again. Steve is so relieved when he just nods and lets him talk.

“The crash knocked me unconscious,” he explains and there’s something weirdly good about telling. He hasn’t told anyone about it, not properly. “I was probably out for five, six minutes at most. Then I came to and the cabin was nearly filled with water already. It was ice cold and I’d broken some ribs on the way down so I couldn’t move too well.”

“What did you do?” Dr. Garner prompts quietly after a moment when Steve doesn’t continue. They’re almost out of hallway to travel and Steve can see the security desk ahead.

“I drowned. And then I froze.”

Dr. Garner says nothing to that. The security guard nods to them as they pass by and Steve gives him a little wave in return. Outside the glass front doors, the street is a busy mess of people and cars but the air is clean and the sky is blue and he feels like he could breathe deeply again if they just get there.

“There’s a cafe nearby,” Dr. Garner suggests as he pushes the door open. “We should head that way. They’ve got decent coffee.”

“Does it cost an arm and a leg?” Steve asks, following behind.

“Only an arm-”

And then three bullets rip into the brick beside them and another one thuds into Steve’s chest.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuhhhhh so yeah this chapter had to wait for me to get caught up into the mostly end of Season 2 of Agents of SHIELD because that was the only place I could find a canon psychiatrist that wasn't evil or crazy (though somehow I am thinking he might end up that way because he seems like a nice guy.) Sorry about that. It should also be the last filler chapter before we get to the next plot arc.
> 
> Uh because that started in the last line. Whoops. :D 
> 
> So uh I might not be around to reply to comments for a few days because I'm going to Aselia Con and I hope I don't embarrass myself too much. Or I might embarrass myself waaaay too much and have to drown my sorrows in internet cat videos, who knows.


	13. Goodbye and Good Riddance to Bad Luck

The first thing Steve notices is a shock of familiar, far away pain rippling through his chest. The second thing he notices is that he’s still alive, still breathing, still standing, so it didn’t hit his heart. And then he realizes his body is already reacting before his brain has caught on to what’s happening.

He doesn’t check to see if Dr. Garner is hurt before he flings the man back inside and into the protection of the… glass covered front of SHIELD. He has a split second of very rational worry before he sees a sudden fracture spread of another bullet hitting glass but not going through and then he’s dragging the door closed behind him. Another three nail the glass as it closes but it holds, showing thick circles of broken, whitened glass that refuses to shatter for the trouble. Bulletproof and doing better at it than his own day, as if there was any reason to think it wouldn’t have been improved by miles.

People are shouting behind him and someone grabs his arm, screams near his ear, but Steve’s full attention is through the windows, searching out the street, the buildings across it, the skyline, trying to figure out who the hell just tried to kill him. He has absolutely no illusions that it was anyone other than him they were after.

“ _Captain Rogers!_ ”

Steve jerks, immediately zoning in on the familiar voice as Agent Coulson breaks through the group of agents that Steve hadn’t noticed filling the entrance hall behind him. Coulson stares at his chest with a face white as milk and Steve looks down. Red has spread across the front of his button up, some couple inches above his heart, and moves rapidly down. It occurs to him that he should probably dig that bullet out before he does something stupid like heal around it.

“I’m fine,” he says but Coulson gives him the most incredulous look.

“You’re going to medical,” he replies, “and I will shoot you again myself if you refuse.”

“I second that,” Dr. Garner adds as SHIELD agents push around them to get closer to the door, forcing Steve to step farther inward to keep from being knocked over. He can’t think of any good reason not to follow Coulson back into the interior of the building, or any bad reasons for that matter, but his head is getting kind of fuzzy now that the initial rush of adrenaline is waning. He’s... kind of actually losing a lot of blood here.

Coulson and Dr. Garner bracket his sides on the way to medical and part way through, Coulson has to grab Steve’s arm and direct him when he suddenly forgets what direction he’s going in. The front of his shirt is red all the way down to his belt despite him pressing a hand to the wound to try and stave off the bleeding, and Steve wonders why he knows that’s important because it _is_ but his head isn’t working quite right and he feels a bit like his brain’s turned to molasses. Near the entrance he loses his balance and Coulson and Dr. Garner have to support him the rest of the way. Logically, Steve knows the trip takes maybe three minutes, but it feels like days.

The medics are agast when they walk in and one of them curses a blue streak about how they just finished with him and he’s already gotten broken and Steve thinks maybe he should be a little offended by that. The thing is, he’s having trouble focusing and is kind of sick to his stomach and the lights keep wobbling in front of him and…

And then he opens his eyes and he’s lying on a bed. Steve blinks and his mind is completely clear. A steady beep nearby speeds up a bit as he takes in the overhead lighting and the unpleasant smell of antiseptic. The sheets are body temp warm and the doctors aren’t crowded around him anymore. He can feel the tell tale clinging sensation of bandages on his chest. The recovery room he’s in isn’t particularly private, considering the wall against the hall is solid glass, but at least it has a door.

Someone seems to notice his confusion through the clear wall. A young doctor he recognizes from earlier today almost trips getting over to check on his vitals. She doesn’t even bother saying anything to him before turning and shouting for Coulson. Steve flinches, his head suddenly aching.

“Glad you’re back with us,” Coulson says as he steps up to the bed with a glass of water. There’s blood on his lapel and soaked into the edge of his sleeve cuff. Steve’s pretty sure it’s his and he wonders how long ago all that even happened. It’s pretty obvious he’s missing some time.

Steve takes a grateful swig of water for his dry mouth. “What happened?”

“You went unconscious. That shot nicked an artery. You lost a lot of blood very quickly. If it weren’t for the fact that your healing factor kicked in almost immediately, you’d be dead.”

That seems to line up with his weirdly fuzzy memory. Steve starts to sit up and grunts at sharp pain through his torso. He ignores it, sits up anyway. It’ll heal. He’s good. “Did you find the guy that shot me?”

“No. They’re long gone. We’ve got a few suspicions already being looked into.” Coulson clasps his hands behind his back. He doesn’t look pleased at the lack of development, mouth tight at the corners.

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Agent Romanov has already extracted Mr. Stark from the hotel and brought him into protective custody. He wasn’t happy about it.” Coulson hesitates, then says, “You should lay back down. It’ll be a little while before your blood levels are back to normal, even with your enhancements.”

Steve glances at his arm where a needle protrudes, pumping something into him that makes his arm feel cold. He bites the inside of his mouth and then tries to ignore that he noticed it. Steve’s mom was a nurse and he’d been in and out of the hospital all his childhood, but he still doesn’t care much for needles and there’s something really unsettling about it being left in his skin, even though he knows why. He does lay down again, though.

“Does this have anything to do with whoever blew up my apartment?” he asks to distract himself and also because he wants to know and he is just annoyed enough by the whole situation not to care that he’s let them know he’s onto them. Have to give him credit, Coulson doesn’t let on if he’s surprised Steve’s figured that tidbit out (and then Steve wonders if he’s under surveillance and they already know about his conversation with Officer Davis- No. He is definitely under surveillance and they definitely know about it.)

“Possibly. You’ve made a lot of enemies out there already.”

He appreciates that Coulson isn’t trying to bullshit him right now and wonders how long that will last. “Why did you lie to me about that, anyway?”

“We didn’t think it was important to bring you in and felt it necessary to keep certain facts as secret as possible so that there wasn’t a general panic while we investigated,” Coulson says smoothly, as if he’d rehearsed it. Could be true, though. “There are a lot of agents that idolize you, especially since Loki, and we wanted to minimize any possible problems.”

“What problems? Dissension in the ranks?”

“Problems like agents abandoning their current missions to track down whoever’s stupid enough to go after you.”

That honestly surprises him a little. He doesn’t know what to think of Coulson’s awkward, almost guilty smile either. Steve glances off instead, ruminating a bit on it, and then asks, “Any death threats on the other guys and Natasha?”

“Natasha lives under a constant death threat by most people who know she actually exists for real and isn’t just a codename for any number of female agents.” Coulson seems amused by that. “Dr. Banner is under protective surveillance working in a SHIELD research facility but there haven’t been any problems for him except a few US army personnel we’ve had to deter. Agent Barton is currently off the grid in one of Director Fury’s personal safe zones to recover from the mind control since things had slowed down before today; we’ll be recalling him. Thor hasn’t returned from Asgard yet from taking the extradition treaty draft to Odin for approval. You’re the only one who has been even threatened lately, much less short at.”

While Steve’s glad the others are doing all right, now he’s got to contend with who might want him dead enough to risk SHIELD getting involved. It was a pretty gutsy move to attack him right at SHIELD’s literal doorstep.

“Is this a good time?” Steve looks up and there’s Dr. Garner at the door. He’s as calm and unbothered as he was before, thumbs caught on his pants pockets, and Steve has to wonder how often this apparently happens.

“We were just finishing,” Coulson tells him. He gives Steve another smile. “Rest up, Cap. Don’t do anything… unadvisable.”

Steve lifts a brow at the odd phrasing. “No promises.”

Coulson doesn’t quite laugh but there’s something about the crinkle of his eyes that seems to suggest one. He files out with a polite nod to Dr. Garner and a quiet, “Andrew.”

Dr. Garner nods to him and then tugs the door closed again. Steve gets the feeling he’s not really going to like this.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Garner asks as he tugs a chair from the corner to sit closer to the bedside.

“I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

Dr. Garner sits back and folds his hands in his lap. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“Well, my chest hurts. Is that what you wanted?”

“An acknowledgement of pain is certainly welcome when it comes to abnormal people.” The way Dr. Garner smiles seems guileless. Like he’s genuinely amused and not just trying to set Steve at ease. It’s a strange sort of honesty Steve’s not sure how to handle because no one else at SHIELD seems to have it. “You don’t seem all that fazed by someone trying to kill you.”

“That’s kind of been normal for me for a while,” Steve points out and Dr. Garner snorts.

“Yes, but how often has it happened when you aren’t expecting it? When you think you’re safe.”

Steve hesitates. This is something he knows will go badly if he doesn’t answer well. “I… Don’t think that’s really a fair question.”

“Oh?” Dr. Garner leans in a bit. “Why not?”

“You’re trying to make me say something stupid so you can tell SHIELD I’m messed up.”

Dr. Garner considers that, leaning back in the chair. “You do remember when I told you that I’m not here to ruin you, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve will give him that much but his hands are still caught tight in the sheets. “Doesn’t mean you _won’t_.”

“I’m not surprised you’ve got some reservations when it comes to psychiatric care, Steve, but it’s not like before you were frozen. We understand a lot more about the human brain and what our experiences can do it it.” Dr. Garner lifts a hand and gestures as he adds, “If I broke a finger, I’d go to the doctor and no one would question it. Should be the same way for injuries to our minds.”

Steve frowns, brows bunched up tight between his eyes because he _know_ that it’s not the same thing. He knows even though Dr. Garner’s got seventy years more history with him that things haven’t gotten _that_ much better. He’s seen things on Tony’s television and he’s observed more out on the streets and it’s not a damned walk in the park.

“I’m not crazy,” Steve growls out, “and I’m not stupid either.”

Dr. Garner gives a quiet snort that sounds more bitter than amused. “No. I did say _should_ , not _is_. We’re still working on removing the stigma completely. That doesn’t mean you don’t need some help and that I can’t help you.”

Steve kind of wants to turn his back on the man and just ignore him until he goes away. His stomach is caught in knots and not just because it’s been hours since he’d eaten anything. Dr. Garner watches him steadily but there’s nothing confrontational in his gaze. Just patience, like he’d wait as long as Steve made him.

“You’re really not going to drop this, are you?” Steve sighs out, slumping against the mattress a bit more.

“Nope.” Dr. Garner gives him another easy smile. “Are you ready to talk?”

“No. But I doubt I ever would be.”

Dr. Garner doesn’t dig too hard. They talk a little about the war and Steve answers questions even though he’s still worried all his words are wrong and going to get him into more trouble. Whatever he thinks of it all, Dr. Garner doesn’t say anything about it. He just directs Steve through varied events that sculpted Steve into the man he is until finally, he seems to have enough.

Getting up from his chair, Dr. Garner scoots it back into place. “We’ll talk again. Try to get some rest.”

“Sure.”

Steve feels kind of gutted inside as he watches Dr. Garner leave. He hasn’t talked that much about the war since right after he woke up, when all SHIELD wanted was for him to spill his guts, and even then this had been worse. Dr. Garner had cared a lot more about the people Steve’d encountered and hung around, rather than secret missions and specific battles. And talking about the Commandos, about Peggy, about _Bucky_ , had just reopened all those wounds he’s been trying so hard to forget he has.

He wants the bed to swallow him up. And at the same time, it’s almost a relief to talk about them, to tell someone the silly, useless things about the people he’s lost. About how Dum Dum had this sappy love song he’d sing when he wasn’t paying attention or Morita’s nudie playing deck he kept hidden on him so the MPs didn’t catch wind or how Bucky’d beaten up near the whole neighborhood once after someone’d made one of his sisters cry and no one copped up to it.

He misses them so fiercely that it makes it hard to breath. He closes his eyes and makes himself do it anyway. Talking about them just reminds him how little sympathy he’d get for going on like this. None of them would have wanted him to suffer their absence. Except maybe Gabe, who’d also tell him all sorts of words for moping in other languages just to get a rise.

He’s going to have to get over this. It’s not like he’s got the option of dying for real considering he’s got Tony around now. Steve takes a deep breath and then lets it out nice and slow. It comes easier than the last so he figure’s that’s progress.

Without Dr. Garner’s presence keeping them out, Steve gets checked out by a couple more medics (thankfully, they remove the needle already) and then an agent shows up to give him a few sheets of paper and a pen so he can scribble out a vague report (as if there’s more to tell than “shots fired, nobody died”.) She tells him Fury wants to talk to him but not until later, possibly tomorrow, and also Tony is missing in the building-

Steve chokes and looks at the agent wide eyed. “ _What?_ ”

“I said that Stark is missing in the building.” She lifts a well formed blond brow. “Bullet didn’t hit your ears, did it?”

“Why am I bothering with this report if Tony’s _missing?!_ ”

“Maybe because everyone here knows he’s going to show up right here sooner or later?” She cocks her hip to one side and rests her hand at it in a smooth, easy motion. “I’ve read the reports. That kid’s smarter than most the agents around here and pretty stealthy, but he’s predictable when you actually think about it, especially where you’re concerned. I’m only surprised he’s not here _already_.”

Steve admits that he is too, kind of. “Don’t you people have some kind of way to find him? Like heat seekers?”

“Look at you getting current with modern tech.” She grins and the edge is all soft but something tells him it shouldn’t be. “We’ve got the technology but there’s several hundred agents around here and some of them aren’t much bigger than Stark. Rather than disrupt everything in creation, we just alerted the guards at the doors in case he makes a break for it. He’ll turn up.”

That isn’t good enough. Tony’s snuck his way onto an _aircraft carrier_ before. There’s no way Steve believes he can’t get past whatever security SHIELD’s got. He shifts then, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he sits up and tries not to lose his breath as pain lances through his chest.

“What are you doing?” the agent asks as her smile falls away.

“I’m going to look for him.”

“No! No, you need to _rest_ -”

“I _need_ to find _my kid_.”

She doesn’t answer at first and Steve levers himself to his feet. His head swims a moment and he hears the edge of the bed whine under his tight grip, but it passes. He’s fine. He’s got this.

“Save me from machismo displays,” the agent grumbles and then slides up to his side, dragging his arm over her surprisingly strong shoulders. “Fine. You want to run after that kid? Okay, but I’m going with you.”

“I don’t need-” He takes a step and nearly loses his balance before she manages to steady him. “Okay. Maybe I do.”

“Good of you to notice.”

They make it three steps towards the door before Tony walks right down the hall, brazen as he can be. Steve doesn’t know why he’s surprised. The agent gives a dry laugh and helps Steve back to the bed as Tony spots the movement through the glass wall and makes a b-line for the door.

“How could you get shot?!” is the first thing he demands unhappily as Steve gets resettled.

“It’s not like I meant to.”

“Were you carrying the shield? Because that thing is like a target. You know that right?”

“Tony-”

“And what is wrong with SHIELD letting this happen?! I thought you guys were, like, mega super spies that kept the world spinning or something!”

“Hey,” the agent says but she doesn’t really sound all that offended.

“And even my favorite jackboot wouldn’t tell me what happened, can you believe that? It’s an absolute _shame_ , you hear me? I should-”

“Tony.” There’s a laugh in Steve’s voice and it bubbles out before he can stop it. Soon, he’s laughing full force and doesn’t care at all that both the agent and Tony are staring at him like he’s lost his mind. He can’t help it. He’s just so stupidly relieved that Tony is, once again, absolutely fine. He’s also pretty sure one of the medicines he got was some form of morphine that is kicking in pretty hard now because laughing does not hurt nearly as much as it should. He wonders how long it’ll take for his body to metabolize it.

“Did you break him?” Tony asks the agent, who shrugs her shoulders.

“I swear, he was like that when I walked in.”

Tony regards her with narrowed eyes a moment before the suspicion drops abruptly for something a bit more speculative. “Does SHIELD have some, like, regulation about only hiring super hot girls? I mean, my favorite jackboot is a total babe and there’s that Hill chick too and now _you._ ”

“Title four, line twenty-eight,” she responds smoothly with a grin while Steve is still floundering over how to apologise to her for Tony’s utter lack of tact.

“ _Knew it._ ”

Before Steve manages, Tony rounds on him and gets a stubborn look that reminds Steve so much of Bucky but before he can get properly sad about that, Tony’s already barking out, “Talk! I want the details _yesterday_.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Steve admits. “Me and the Doc were heading out to some place and someone took a potshot the moment I opened the door. I got hit before we got back inside.”

“Doc?” Damn it, Steve hadn’t meant to mention him and of course that’s what Tony latched onto.

“Uh, yeah. Just. You know.”

Tony stares at him and his eyes seem razor sharp with the level of intensity he’s set on Steve. “For the nightmares?”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve hisses with a glance towards the Agent. She just cocks her head a little and shrugs. He doesn’t know if that means she’s clueless or just doesn’t care. His stomach churns a bit either way.

Tony seems to get something because he goes off the offensive pretty quick, sagging into his more usual teenage looseness. “Rad. So I’m starving and as my legal guardian, you are required to make sure I’m fed.”

“Guess so.” Steve’s not entirely sure he could walk to the mess right now, though.

“How about I go grab you two some dinners before the kid resorts to cannibalism?” the agent asks, almost peppy. “Be right back.”

She’s gone before he can stop her, a polite refusal in the back of his throat. Tony doesn’t seem to notice or care. He sits in the chair Dr. Garner left behind, slumping into it like his spine has turned to jello.

“You know, maybe you should think before you speak,” Steve says, trying to relax himself, too. He doesn’t know what the agent might know or think about him and that’s pretty nerve wracking. “There are things people don’t want you to just spill everywhere.”

“Yeah, sorry, sometimes I just…” Tony makes a vague gesture with his hand that does nothing to make whatever in his head more understandable. “Yeah. Message received.”

Steve doubts it. He sighs a bit, reaches up to rub at his eyes that suddenly feel gritty. “You know going to college at fourteen is going to be hard- by the way, when are you fourteen?”

“Uh…Tomorrow.”

Wait- Steve’s mind stalls. _What?!_ “When were you gonna tell me?!”

“Sometime?” Tony’s not looking at him, head resting on a balled fist as his gaze zips over everything _but_ Steve. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not a little kid or anything. Not like I wanted some kind of party.”

Steve vaguely remembers being fourteen and that was _important_. He’s at a loss for figuring out why Tony doesn’t seem to think it is. Actually, he doesn’t know what to think about Tony’s body language either. The kid’s clammed up, his posture open but everything screams anything but. There’s a tenseness in his shoulders that Steve is starting to get good at noticing.

“We should do something fun,” Steve tries and there is a tiny, faint flinch at the corner of Tony’s mouth that’s gone just as fast. “What did you do for your birthday last year?”

Tony glances at him then but Steve almost wishes he hadn’t. There’s something there, an undercurrent of tense consideration. Abruptly, he realizes Tony is about to lie to him even before Tony looks off and starts talking meaninglessly.

“I went on a cruise. Caribbean; it’s nice this time of year. The girls are choice and the drinks are better. You should try it some time. Might warm you up from the ice bath already-”

Steve hurts in his chest and it has nothing to do with his wound. “Tony.”

“Or, you know, we could visit Italy. My nanny was from there. Always hated her, but she’s probably not a reflection of the people. You know how that is. At least I learned some choice cuss words-”

“Tony,” Steve says softer and the chatter fades off as if Steve had yelled. Tony stares through the clear wall at something Steve can’t see from where he’s at. Once again, Steve feels like he’s going to mess all of this up. He hadn’t even imagined something like a _birthday_ might be a sore spot. He opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it again because what if he just makes this sudden foul mood worse.

“I could go for some cake,” Tony says abruptly. He’s still not looking at him but the tense mood fractures a bit. It feels like an olive branch.

“I bet Natasha or Agent Coulson can point us in the right direction.” Steve sees his shoulders relax just a little, enough that Steve’s stomach unclenches, too. “Uh… You ever been to a baseball game?”

Tony scoffs and rolls his eyes in a movement that takes his entire head to convey just how dumb he thinks Steve is for asking. “Oh yeah, I love sitting under the blistering hot sun and watching a bunch of guys run around in a circle and hit a ball with a stick. Highlight of my summer, really, how did you know?”

“There’s something to be said about fresh air and sunlight,” Steve counters and has to smile at the look Tony gives him for that one. “Okay. No game but you’re missing out.”

“On sunburns. I think I’ll live.”

Steve snorts and then the agent shows back up with food for both of them. She hands Tony a tray with a covered plate and a box of milk that Tony looks almost offended over, then a bigger and much heavier tray to Steve. Whoever prepared it knew about his enhancements and even though Steve isn’t that hungry, he’s pretty sure he’ll pack away most of it.

“Thanks, uh… I never caught your name,” he finishes lamely. She grins at him while Tony gives him a disappointed look.

“Agent Morse. Don’t bother remembering it, we only met today because I passed the wrong person in the hallway and drew the short stick.” She shakes her head with a rueful look. “Plus, I guess I wanted to take a look at you.”

“Pathetic in person, isn’t he?” Tony says between bites and Steve shoots him a dirty look.

“Not quite what I expected,” Agent Morse admits, tucking her hands into her pockets. “I’ve gotta scram. You boys play nice and don’t make me call Mama Coulson on you.”

“No promises,” Tony says before turning back to what looks like tacos.

She gives Steve a last smile and then heads out to whatever duties he’d been keeping her from. He makes a mental note to figure out something nice he can do for her as thanks and is fairly sure Coulson might be able to help him make good on it. They eat the rest of the meal quietly and Steve finds the awkwardness is returning.

He wants to ask about why Tony’s so hung up on his birthday, but he has the unpleasant suspicion that Howard is part of it, if not the outright cause. He kind of wishes he could go back and knock some of the sense into him that he was obviously lacking. Then he wonders if he’ll ever manage to unravel the damage his old friend had done.

A nurse comes by to check Steve’s vitals. She says he’s doing better than expected but they still want him to stick around for the night just in case. He isn’t really surprised by that. When Natasha gets there half an hour later, she gives him a long look over and then seems satisfied.

“We got a room ready for you,” she says to Tony. “Your sleepover bag’s already waiting for you.”

“You didn’t mess with my laptop, did you?” he asks with badly veiled suspicion.

Natasha just gives him a _look_ and Tony stares back at her with every bit of insolence he can. Thankfully, she seems more amused by him than anything else. He gets up and when she starts towards the door but pauses and looks back at Steve. There’s something unsure in his stance, in the tighter clench of his jaw.

Then he blurts out all at once, “Can I see Dr. Banner tomorrow?”

He says it fast enough that it takes Steve a second to register what is was. And… well. Okay. He doesn’t know what SHIELD facility Dr. Banner’s at, but… “I’ll talk to Coulson and see if we can figure something out.”

Tony nods and his shoulders sag a little but it’s relief rather than disappointment. He heads after Natasha without another word. Steve glances to the side table where his various personal effects sit. The cellular phone has been still and quiet the whole time he’s been awake but he reaches for it now and turns it on. He’s got a missed message from Clint telling him to get better soon and lay off the meatloaf, whatever that means. Steve takes ten painstaking minutes to tell him he will and then another couple figuring out how to make a new message to Coulson.

“Is there any way to visit Dr. Banner tomorrow?” he reads out slowly as he types it, going back to fix mistakes from hitting the wrong tiny key here and there. He doesn’t know why anyone communicates this way but he sends it none the less.

Only half a minute later, he gets a reply: _A visit isn’t feasible. I’ll see if I can get a video call set up._

Steve isn’t sure why he’s surprised video calls wouldn’t be a big deal, considering what had happened on the carrier.

“Thanks,” he sends back and then just as he’s about to set down the phone, he remembers and adds, “Can I buy a Hulk bedspread somewhere?”

To reply is longer this time and despite the recent blood loss, Steve can feel red creeping down his ears. Then: _I’ll look for one._

He sends another thanks and then sets the phone aside so he can lay back on the bed again. He does feel better than before but rest couldn’t hurt.

He’s asleep before he’s really noticed any passage of time.

\----

Steve dreams about ice water and someone whose face he never sees reaching out for him. He doesn’t manage to catch their hand and then he drowns.

A nurse has breakfast and orange sherbet in a little styrofoam cup for him when he wakes up. He tries not to think anything of the worried look on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, this one didn't take months!!! Coolies. Have a little cool down before things really get going next chapter. 
> 
> :D I just wanna shout out to all yall who give me reviews because they make me happy and then I brag to my poor friends and roommate and all is better in TGP's world. Also, warm fuzzies. I love those.


	14. Deep In The Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha, told you it wasn't dead.
> 
> Just as a side note, I am Jossing Ant-Man. I refuse to leave Janet van Dyne in the fridge just to get to keep Scott Lang’s admittedly hilarious self around. I’m also ignoring the entire Ant-Man movie history for her and Pym. Fuck that. Fuck it completely. Operation: Ass Pull is officially a go. Prepare for an entirely non-comic or MCU compliant, heavily influenced by Earth’s Mightiest Heroes version because Janet van Dyne deserves better than what the MCU did to her.

Coulson shows up soon after breakfast. Steve’s released with a stern warning not to push himself for at least a week, super soldier healing or no. Since Steve still hurts _a lot_ with his healing factor having mostly worked on replenishing his blood and roughly stanching the wound and is only now getting to actually healing the non-fatal damage, he’s not exactly looking to fight that. 

“And before we get much farther,” Coulson says, gesturing to a large package he’d set down by the door upon entry. It’s covered in brightly colored paper wrapping with some kind of obnoxiously designed cartoon characters on it, complete with a ridiculous bow on the top.

“I-” He stops as his brain finally _works_ and says, “Is that for Tony?”

“I think you’ll find it’s just what you ordered.”

Ordered- _oh!_ Steve grins, already imagining the look on Tony’s face when he opens it. “You kept the receipt, right? I’ll pay you back.”

Coulson gives him a mild smile and then starts leading him through the building towards what Steve assumes will be some kind of lodging. There’s no discussion about returning to the hotel, not when Tony’s already here and their things have been brought over. Steve makes a mental note to send the hotel a thank you for having them since all the staff had been very kind. They’d only stared a little that first day and afterward treated him like a normal person. Only one guy had dropped a “thank you for your service” but even that had been a one off comment without any awkward follow up. It’d been nice.

It turns out that Steve and Tony have their own rooms, one next to the other with a door connecting them. Tony’s is just a bedroom but Steve’s is more of a studio apartment. On one side of his room, there’s a wider common space with a television, table and chairs, and a tiny kitchenette that is plenty for his purposes. Tony’s sitting at the table with his phone, but the moment he realizes Steve’s there, he’s shoving his phone into Steve’s face. “Look what today is!”

“Happy birthday, Tony,” Steve says, eyeing the exploding cake picture. He has no idea why someone would spend that much time on something like this (he loves everything about it). As Tony gets out of his tunnel vision enough to zero in on the package in Steve’s hands, Steve sets it down for him.

“Someone help you pick out the paper for more modern sensibilities, Grandpa?” Tony says even as he starts fiddling with the bow on top. Coulson snorts quietly and sets his briefcase on the table, tugging out a computer of his own.

“Agent Coulson was nice enough to handle that for me.” Tony’s fingers twitch on the ribbon. He glances up between them, waiting, expectant, and it takes Steve a few seconds to realize what he wants. “Go ahead.”

The ribbon goes flying and then strips of hastily ripped paper soon follow. Steve is kind of impressed at the wide dispersal pattern Tony manages but then all motion stops and Tony is staring at the front of his gift. The bedspread is in a soft, clear package that allows for a full view of the front. Steve’s not sure how someone got a photograph of the Hulk smiling but there’s the proof of it staring back at Tony. 

“You-” Tony starts and then just starts unzipping the package so he can pull out the bedspread. He gets it unfolded in a few quick motions, then shoves the ends into Steve’s hands. Steve obligingly spreads it out so Tony can see the whole thing (and so he can, too). It’s a good shot. The Hulk amid rubble from the alien fight, standing tall and strong. Great lighting, center oriented but appropriate for the purpose. The green of his skin is a good contrast to the grays and browns of the rubble, makes for a good pop-

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Tony whispers reverently. “You actually _did it_.”

Steve blinks out of his artist eye view and looks at Tony’s face. There’s something there that he’s not sure how to read. Almost suspicion, maybe disbelief? It’s- Steve’s chest clenches a little. It’s like Tony’s not used to people giving him what he _actually_ wants.

Tony abruptly rips the bedspread from Steve and hurries through the door to his room. Steve spies the tell tale fling of fabric signaling that Tony’s putting the bedspread in its rightful spot and then turns to give Coulson a grateful look. 

“You’re kind of amazing sometimes,” Steve notes and then Coulson blinks at him wide eyed as the faintest pink hints at his cheeks.

“Thank you, Captain. That… means a lot more than you think.”

Steve shrugs his shoulder, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist that gives in his guts. He instead leans in to look at Coulson’s screen. There’s a window of messages that looks like the texting on Steve’s phone and the other is- “Oh! You’re- That’s a camera program, isn’t it? For a video call?”

“Yes. I set up an appointment since a visit wasn’t possible,” Coulson says, recovering easily in a way Steve envies. He quickly taps a few commands and the camera window blinks once before changing to a picture. Banner has a tired look to his eyes that seems to be normal for him but he smiles after a moment.

“Hello, Agent Coulson,” he says, his voice grainy and a little distorted by the connection. “Captain.”

“Dr. Banner,” Steve greets politely. “Thank you for taking time out of your day for a talk.”

“He needed the break!” Banner grimaces before an unfamiliar woman shoves her way on screen, grinning widely. “Oh wow, you are much more handsome without that helmet on. _Total_ DILF.”

He has no idea what that means but it seems to be a compliment, even if Banner’s suddenly pink along the cheeks. The woman is very pretty, even if her face is… a little overly expressive. Her dark, reddish-brown hair is short cropped, her face made up with perfectly executed makeup. She looks fashionable but friendly and maybe even too excited to see him. 

“Sorry to hijack your time, Bruce, but I just _had_ to meet him,” she says cheerfully, giving Banner a nudge before turning her attention back to Steve with a sudden jump in intensity. “How did the suit feel on the field? Any spots rub you wrong, anything uncomfortable?”

“Uh. No, ma’am, it was fine.” Steve stares at her because he has barely any idea what to think of this. 

“How’s the weight? Could you stand something heavier if you could still move in it?”

“I-I guess so? It’s a lot lighter than what I wore in the war.”

“Good! I’ve got some ideas about reinforcing the kevlar while keeping it supple enough to move in and maybe building in some goggles to the helmet for possible nightvision functions-”

“Miss Van Dyne designed and oversaw the manufacture of your suit,” Coulson adds quietly for Steve’s benefit as the woman continues rambling. “She took several of my suggestions in doing so.”

That makes a little sense, even if the name gives him a weird sense of deja vu for some reason. Steve tunes back in to Van Dyne’s babbling, something about clear lines and accenting natural curves. If nothing else, she seems quite passionate about her work. She only pauses when there’s a sound behind them and- is that a baby? 

“Excuse me, duty calls,” she sighs out, stepping out of view. “Yes, darling; Mommy’s coming. Patience is a virtue!”

Banner sighs a little. “She’s supposed to be on maternity leave.”

Steve’s never heard the term but he figures it must have something to do with babies. He shakes his head and looks towards Tony’s door, still sitting slightly ajar. “Tony! Come on back in here. I think you’ll like your other present.”

There’s no answer and at first Steve’s a little worried Tony hasn’t come out already, but then the kid pokes his head through the doorway. He still seems a little off but comes out when Steve gestures and then-

“Dr. Banner!” Tony’s excitement level ramps to the top in a split second as Coulson obligingly gives up his chair for him. “My bedspread has your face on it!”

Banner blinks his eyes long and slow as he tries to figure out how to react to that. “Uh. That’s nice?”

“It’s awesome. Steve did it. Coulson helped, I think.”

Banner’s lips twitch at the corners. “How nice of them.”

“It’s for my birthday! I’m totally mature now.”

“Is that so? Happy birthday, Tony.”

“Yeah, thanks. I mean, I’m too old for parties and all, but I guess I’m not too old for people to give me stuff and be happy I was born, right?” Tony’s grinning like there’s nothing behind that, genuinely pleased over having his wishes met, but Steve can’t help thinking something’s strange about the phrasing. 

“In my experience,” Banner murmurs gently, “you’re never too old for that.”

There’s a slight flinch in the skin around Tony’s eyes, too fast to get much of whatever micro-expression might have been but it’s enough for Steve to notice and… Oh. This is a Howard thing. _Great_. 

“I don’t guess we could get some cake?” Steve asks Coulson quietly, watching as Tony starts interrogating Banner about what he’s researching. 

“The commissary will be sending it up with lunch,” Coulson says with a look that drips pleased accomplishment. Steve’s not entirely sure how Coulson got so good at forethought but he’s glad for it now. 

“...and fascinating applications for- what happened to your hand?”

Steve looks back and it seems Tony had gotten excited enough to do some gesturing because Banner’s staring at the splint on his right hand in horror. Tony just shrugs a bit, giving his hand a baleful glance as he mutters out, “Oh, I tried to punch Loki in the face.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“The glass was too thick to break. I didn’t even crack it.”

“Why were you even in the position of being able to-”

“Steve got shot the other day, though. It was _way_ worse than this.”

Banner makes a weird, strangled noise. “Steve was _shot?!_ ”

“The situation is being handled, Dr. Banner,” Coulson soothes, bending into camera range. “Captain Rogers will be making a full recovery. No need to worry.”

There’s no hint of green in Banner’s eyes but the way he glares at Coulson is all Hulk. Steve feels the hair on the back of his neck stand with the mounting tension and then it breaks as Banner settles himself. 

“How… how long does the splint stay on, Tony?” he asks with only a little strain.

“Like over a month. It’s _bogus_. I’m like super slow at typing right now. I can’t get over sixty words a minute!”

Banner eyes Tony's hand like he's trying to decide something for himself, but he just gives a little nod. And then he nearly jumps out of his skin when Van Dyne slides in next to him, close enough that her face takes up half the screen. 

“Oh, you must be Tony! Hi there! Bruce told me so much about you,” she says excitedly. “Well, I pestered him with enough questions that he told me things. This guy is so hard to chat with. No clue how to do small talk.”

Banner sighs and doesn’t quite roll his eyes but Steve is pretty sure he wants to.

“Hello strange woman in a box,” Tony says, tilting his head a little. “My reputation precedes me. _Excellent._ ”

“Boy, does it! I’m kind of confused over how some kid from the ‘80s is so good at hacking modern technology though.”

It hits Steve the moment she says it. How _did_ Tony manage to get so good with modern tech so quickly? He can’t think it’s just his general brilliance. Steve glances to Coulson, who’s eyes are just a touch wider as if he were just now considering the same. Tony’s pure talent for technology had just been taken as a given, considering how Howard had been. Of course Howard Stark’s son would be just as ridiculously good with technology. Why _wouldn’t_ he be?

“That… is a good question,” Banner murmurs like he’s just made the same realization with the rest of them.

Tony just fidgets in his seat a bit. “So maybe I hit up a library when I got here. And found out the internet wasn’t just a military thing anymore. It’s amazing what you can find there, believe you me. The internet is officially my favorite invention from the 20th century.”

Steve’s not sure why but he’s pretty sure there’s something else to it. He tries not to let on because if Tony didn’t explain fully, it’s because he doesn’t want to or doesn’t want specific people knowing. He’ll ask in private even though he wants to know _now_. He has the most terrible feeling there’s something sinister to it.

Van Dyne jumps into a discussion with Tony about what he does on the internet and it turns out Tony has been talking to people all around the world and was up late last night having some kind of think tank session with a woman named Maya studying a botany bio-chem application that is mostly over Tony’s head (which Steve is fairly sure is half the reason he kept bugging her) and was planning a weekend binge with a guy named Ho who had some apparently fascinating ideas about robots.

“Steve is totally super lame so I gotta get my socializing in somehow,” Tony complains with a long suffering look Steve’s way. “Thankfully, there are plenty of people willing to babble about neat stuff as long as they don’t know my age. Dr. Banner, you should set up Skype so you can keep me updated on your research. I could be like a junior scientist or something, totally useful and worthwhile. Soundboard me, man.”

It’s flippant but Steve hears the actual need behind it, the sheer amount of hope Tony was hiding. And it surprises him just how relieved he is when Banner doesn’t blow him off but actually seems to be considering it. 

“I can talk to base security about it,” Banner offers and Tony lights up immediately.

“Hold up,” Van Dyne says, her lips twisted. “Steve, you let him just talk to random strangers on the internet?”

Like he’s dangling Tony over a lake of alligators. Steve gives himself a moment of being frankly baffled because what does he care who Tony talks to? And it’s not as if these people are around to make trouble. 

“He’s fourteen, not four,” Steve reminds her gently. “I figure he’s plenty old enough to figure out his own way.”

“There are dangerous people out there!”

“Miles and miles away. I’d be more worried about neighborhood kids and even then, again, he’s _fourteen._ I don’t know how things in the future might have changed but back when I was fourteen, my ma was just happy if I didn’t pick a fight with the irish bimbos down the street. Most days she was home, she chased me out of the house herself.”

Van Dyne hasn’t lost the pinched look but now Banner’s looking a little embarrassed. “There have been a few changes in the views on childcare since then, and new dangers. You might want to have a discussion with Agent Coulson about that.”

“I’ve already scheduled a time,” Coulson replies, eyes on his phone as he taps in a command. Steve doesn’t know how to feel about that. He’s pretty sure they’re all over reacting but it makes Banner feel better and Van Dyne stops giving him the stink eye. 

Then the baby makes noise again and Van Dyne zips off to tend to it. Banner is relieved for about five seconds before he grimaces and shifts aside. Then Van Dyne is back and… she has two infants. They look very young (Steve has almost no experience with babies and certainly not enough to age them correctly), fat and healthy, and Van Dyne beams. “Check out Captain America, kids!”

The babies are completely uninterested. Steve awkwardly wiggles his fingers at them but they just stare vacantly back. They’re little enough that Van Dyne just has one scooped up in each arm and Steve isn’t sure they can even lift their heads. 

“Very handsome little ones,” Coulson compliments, inclining his head. “I’m glad there were no complications with the birth.”

“Well, there were, but not on my end!” Van Dyne laughs a little as one infant yawns toothlessly. “Everyone but my doctor and one nurse ended up getting drafted into triage. Those aliens are lucky I was a day late delivering!”

Abruptly, Steve knows why he remembers her name. The Avengers auxiliary roster flashes into his mind and he reads it word by word in a flash. Janet Van Dyne, SHIELD agent code name Wasp. Possessed a particular suit that allowed for shrinking and had insect like wings for flying, as well as offensive electric pulses through her gloves. Worked with ex-husband H. Pym who was not on the roster due to conscientious objection. Extensive knowledge of fashion design and doctorate in molecular biology. Her presence in Banner’s lab makes a lot more sense suddenly. 

“Whoa, you had babies the day the aliens showed up?” Tony asks and it’s the first time he hasn’t seemed uncomfortable even thinking about the event. 

“Hope was born just as the portal opened,” Van Dyne says proudly, kissing one baby’s temple. “Henry showed up right when it closed. I’m sure that’s a sign of something but I’ll be damned if I know what.”

Steve thinks it’s a little suspicious timing, too, but he keeps it to himself. She’s pretty lively for just having had twins a few weeks ago but he’s known women that went to work hours after. 

“So, whatcha think, Captain America? Are my little rugrats up to snuff?”

Barring Bucky’s sisters, who had all been out of diapers by the time he met them, Steve has absolutely no experience with little kids. He has even less with infants. He’s known they existed because of basic biology but there’d been no reason for him to associate with them. As such, the babies in Van Dyne’s arms look about the same as any other baby he’s lain eyes on or seen pictures of. Maybe a little more squished up, possibly due to their limited age, but otherwise the same. He’d never be able to identify them from a panel of ten babies unless the others had had different skin colors. One has a couple light colored hairs on its head and the other a smattering of brown, but that’s about all he can really use to differentiate them.

“They look… healthy?” he says awkwardly and then she’s snorting with laughter at his expense. 

“Oh, man. I figured you for the baby kissing type of American icon but you wouldn’t know _what_ to do with a baby, would you?”

He must be _really_ transparent. “Not a bit, ma’am.”

“That’s _adorable_.” She giggles a little more, flashing a lot of very neat teeth with her mirth. “I’ll just have to take care of that myself then.”

“Ma’am?”

“Give me a good couple months and I’ll be fighting fit again. _Then_ we’ll get some real work done. Not just this world protecting clean up job SHIELD had you on; some real comic book worthy missions.”

Steve looks at Coulson for some kind of explanation but Coulson is as amused and unbothered as ever. 

“There was an idea that the Avengers could be used for more than simply world ending events,” he says mildly. 

Steve’s not sure he’s comfortable with Van Dyne joining the team. Not because she makes him uncomfortable or doesn’t seem proper for it, but because she’d just had _twins_. The rest of the Avengers, none of them have families. None of them have people who would suffer if they weren’t around-

“Can we be done with the meet and greet and get to _science talk?_ ” Tony whines, fidgeting in his seat. He’s been remarkably patient having his call hijacked but his patience has apparently run its course. Van Dyne teases him a bit and promises to get Steve’s number from Banner later before heading off to tend her children. Tony starts bombarding Banner with questions about his current research again and Banner answers with indulgent fondness. 

Steve hears none of it. He is struck by the sudden realization, one that has hit minorly a few times now, that he doesn’t have nothing to lose. He isn’t like Natasha or Clint or even Bruce, unattached willingly or not and therefore free to put their lives on the line. If something happened to him, Tony would suffer. 

He’d had ties before, people who would be sad if (when) he died, but no one who depended on him. His mother would have grieved the way he grieved for her. Bucky would have mourned a while. Peggy- He is not going to consider how Peggy felt when she thought he was dead. 

There were a few others he made friends with, like the Commandos and the USO girls, but all in all, his passing hadn’t _endangered_ anyone. Now…?

His eyes fall onto Tony still interrogating Banner. It’s different now and that hadn’t actually, really hit him until just this moment. 

Steve’s chest feels nearly as tight as his worst of asthma attacks. He decides to consider the ramifications later when such a breakdown won’t be public.

\----

Lunch and the cake show up just as Banner regretfully has to end the call to return to his work. Tony’s disappointed by that but brightens the moment he sees the cake. It’s decked out in bright red with gold mounds of frosting along the edges and joyfully proclaims, “Happy Birthday Tony”. He gloats about the attention, Steve and Coulson sing him the song badly (not even the serum could make Steve not tone-deaf), and then Coulson goes off to do his job again. Tony shuffles back into his room to marvel at his bedspread or play on his laptop some more and that leaves Steve on his own. 

Steve is not ready to have his thinking time yet. He is completely and utterly unprepared for that. When he’d taken Tony in, it’d been because it was the right thing to do. He _had_ to. The kid needed someone and no one else was stepping up. No one else did what had to be done. _Steve_ is the guy who does what has to be done.

The thing is, Steve is also the guy who is totally fine sacrificing himself if it means doing the right thing, doing what must be done. And that’s not good for Tony. That’s not what Tony needs. If Steve’s not there, who knows what could happen to Tony? The kid’s mouth would get him into more trouble than Hydra ever could imagine, or he’d go back to being held in a concrete room twenty levels under ground. 

Or-

No. He doesn’t want to think like that. He doesn’t want to consider what might happen if someone isn’t there to remind everyone else that this mouthy genius is still a _child_. He doesn’t want to consider how useful Tony’s mind could be to others, how well Loki had demonstrated that very fact. He doesn’t want to consider that Fury might be just heartless enough to use him.

Fury’s not actually heartless, of that Steve is very sure, but his morals are ragged on the edges and colored by his determination to go as far as he has to. Fury sees the world in numbers and victory percentages and the Greater Good. Steve sees it in the face of every person he meets. There is a need for both kinds of people in the world and maybe Fury has the right personality for leadership of something like SHIELD but he doesn’t have the right one to see a child and not consider how that child could be used.

Tony could be used. You just had to give him the right carrot.

Steve closes his eyes and then slumps down into a chair. His life had never meant much. Once, he’d been chronically ill and unfit for most anything, living by sheer force of will and luck alone. He should have died ten times over before eighteen. His mother had called him a miracle before the TB got her but Steve had never much believed that. He’d wondered if his existence was there just to make others feel better about their own lives, or some kind of joke. 

Even after the serum, he’d been a weapon, not a man. He was a symbol, a rallying point, a reminder of American might, and he’d played that role simply by doing what he’d always wanted to do: fighting. He’d never stopped fighting.

He’s fighting right even now. 

Steve glances towards Tony’s bedroom door, mostly closed but cracked a bit so he can see a sliver of carpet inside. 

Nothing will keep Steve from fighting the good fight. Not even his responsibility to Tony. If there’s a danger that needs Captain America, he’ll be there. He’ll risk everything for victory because in the grand scheme of things, Tony is _one_ child in the whole world and Steve can’t put him ahead of everyone. It wouldn’t be right and damn him, Steve cannot _help_ but do the right thing.

Someday, that is going to get him killed. He used to be fine with that but if he’s killed, where does that leave Tony? Steve hasn’t put any thought into a chain of custody, of who would look after Tony if he weren’t around. He needs to put something down in writing so there’s no fight about it. He thinks about Tony’s cousin and Tony may not be fond of him but Morgan Stark’s in a good position to provide for him, already _is_ providing for him. Steve doesn’t think he’d actively look after Tony himself but he’d be able to set up minders and keep Tony in school. Steve resolves to ask Coulson about drawing something up to make it official. He can’t promise not to fling himself into danger but he can at least make sure everything is settled and ready when he does in case of the worst. 

He’s about halfway through tapping a message into his phone when there’s a light knock at his door. Steve answers it without checking the peephole because why would he be in danger in the heart of SHIELD?

“Busy?” Natasha asks, brows lifting, but she doesn’t give him time to answer before stepping in past him. There’s a file in her hands and she opens it mid step, flipping through a few pages. “I thought you might like to see what we pulled up from the wreckage of your apartment.”

“I guess. Since now I’m allowed to know about it,” Steve mutters, finding that he’s still kind of bitter about that. He closes the door and follows her over to peer at the sheets. Most of the stack is printouts of photographs taken on scene and he’s sorry to see that the radio he’d been so happy to find is cracked in two and likely not at all recoverable. The damage is extensive and he sees several holes leading to the main hallway and the next apartment over. He’s not sure he’d have survived if it went off while he was home. He hopes none of his neighbors were hurt.

“Whoever set the bomb in place wasn’t the guy who made it,” Natasha says, setting down the folder to spread out its contents. “The bomb itself was sophisticated. It stayed contained enough only to really destroy the one space. Even the wall damage isn’t all that bad, considering.”

“Don’t think I’m getting the deposit back,” Steve sighs out. “Any clues on what the bomb was made of?”

“Several. We collected bits and pieces left over but most of it was vaporized.” Natasha tugs out a specific photograph showing a few pieces of metal lined up. “Considering the placement under your couch, they were going for killing you in your sleep.”

Steve never got familiar with the more complicated bomb making so he has little idea what he’s looking at. He’d stuck with molotovs when he ran out of grenades and let one of the other guys handle the timed stuff. Knowing where the bomb had been placed, now he’s wondering how long it’d been there, just waiting to go off. If he’d been home, so would Tony. And then they’d both be dead. 

“There was security in my apartment, wasn’t there?” he asks, even though they both know the answer is yes. Steve’d had no doubt his place was bugged to the gills. 

“We didn’t pick up the intrusion and I already went through the logs. No one not SHIELD certified went into the apartment.” She doesn’t deny that SHIELD operatives had been in, likely several times, when Steve wasn’t around. Someday, he is going to have a talk with Fury about personal privacy but right now he needs to figure out who’s trying to kill him.

“So someone SHIELD certified tried to kill me,” Steve concludes, mouth pressing in a firm, unhappy line.

Natasha lifts her eyes to his own, steady and thoughtful. “That was a pretty quick leap.”

“You’d have found tampering on the tapes if there was any,” he reminds her and she doesn’t deny it.

“Director Fury would like you to stay in quarters for the time being, unless escorted by a few hand picked agents,” she says instead and that does not sit well with him at all.

“Look, I get that you’re all just trying to look after me, but I’m not the kind of guy to just sit around and wait for someone else to save me-”

“You’re the kind of guy to attack an enemy base through the front door.” Natasha smiles when he scowls and then pats his arm. “I’m not planning on shutting you out. Neither is Fury. I’ll be giving you updates as events develop, but it would be better if you weren’t directly involved. If possible, I’d rather avoid you nearly dying again or being finished off entirely.”

Steve still doesn’t like it. “All due respect, ma’am, this is not the first time someone’s gunned at me. I didn’t run then, I won’t run now.” 

Natasha snorts, shaking her head with amusement. “I’ll make you a deal. You lie low and let me do the digging, I’ll bring you with me when I go for the capture.”

“Are you authorized to make that kind of promise?” he asks suspiciously because that sounds like a consolation if he’s ever heard one.

“I know ways to make Fury agree with me,” she says instead of answering, giving him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “And when to just ignore him.”

He’s still not quite sure he believes her but he lets it lie because she leaves the folder with him to study. Steve spends the rest of the day with it, tying his thoughts in knots as he brainstorms who might want to kill him and why. Besides the obvious, of course. It helped to be prepared for any motive when there was so little information. 

Thing is, Steve’s really, really not the kind who lets other people do his dirty work. Even for his own benefit. He can’t just sit here and wait. Only a few hours and he’s already getting cabin fever. When Tony comes out of his room for dinner, Steve asks him, “Can you help me find a way to get out of the building without being detected?”

Tony blinks a few times and then snorts, his lips curling back into a full bodied smile.

“You are so lucky I already found the audio recorder they stashed in the ceiling lamp the first hour I got here,” he says, mirthful. And it hits Steve that he should have considered something like that.

“Are they filming us?”

“Not that I found. I hacked the security system and gave them a loop of this skeleton song until they turned off the recorder.” That unique solution is so Tony that Steve can’t help laughing, at least until Tony adds, “Then I wrote a strongly worded email to Eyepatch about it.”

Oh _no_.

“Tony,” Steve groans, rubbing his head.

“So sure, I’ll figure out a route for you. This place is loaded with surveillance but I’m a totally rad super genius. They won’t know what hit them.” Tony grins but it fades a bit before he asks, “Why, though?”

“Because I can’t just sit around waiting for someone else to save me,” Steve says and it’s a testament to Tony’s character that he considers this only a few moments before he gives a grave nod and they start figuring out how to get Steve out without anyone noticing. 


	15. Are You Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE WAIT, a homestuck fic ate my brain for most of this year (I am nearly finished with that fic, gods willing). Also I was going to wait to post this until tomorrow BUT I COULD NOT MISS TONY'S BIRTHDAY. So there you go.

Tony gets a phone by the end of the next week. Not because he’s helping Steve figure out how to leave SHIELD undetected; because he aces the GED testing after a few hours of binge studying and then turns around and blows both the ACT and SAT out of the water. Steve figures it’s good to reward scholastic achievement. He hadn’t been all that sure about the SHIELD issued examiner who administered the tests, some squirrelly looking man who made the hair on the back of Steve’s neck stand on edge, but Tony took to the tests easy. It’s been obvious the whole time just how smart Tony is but Steve is still kind of blown away by it. 

He is less blown away when he comes back from the gym and finds Tony’s dismantled the phone into every conceivable piece so he can get a better look at how it works. Steve just stares at the mess on his table.

“Who the hell gave you a screwdriver that small?” he asks and Tony just snorts without looking up.

“My jackboot.”

Steve and Natasha are going to have _words_. 

After Tony’s put the phone back together, it works just as well as it did before so Steve guesses there’s no harm done but it’s the principle of the thing. Plus, it means Tony’s managed to remove the tracking beacon someone slipped into the phone. Steve’s not sure when it happened, but he dutifully destroys the tiny metal disk Tony throws his way. 

He’s recovered from the gunshot. It didn’t take long to heal after the first few days. The dull ache in his chest lingers a while but doesn’t bother him much. He’s too busy trying to figure out a plan for what to do once he’s out of SHIELD custody. He’s not sure how to find the people who tried to kill him, even with what little info on the current mission surrounding the event that Tony’s managed to hack into. 

A session with Dr. Garner leaves him both relieved at being able to share (some of) his troubles and also rubbed entirely raw at having to examine his experiences. Dr. Garner pulls no punches. He won’t let Steve handwave anything, pushes him to examine feelings and memories and everything else he really, really would like to stop thinking about. Steve’s not sure if it’s actually helping. Tony’s happy he’s doing it, though. And Steve guesses it might help in the long run. At least there’s been no discussion of the kinds of treatments he remembers hearing about back in his day. Dr. Garner is happy enough just making Steve talk a lot. Small mercies.

New activity comes in the form of a summons. Natasha doesn’t explain anything and just leads Steve out into the halls with a passing comment to Tony to behave. (He promises he won’t.) 

Steve takes the opportunity to observe her on the way. Natasha’d impressed him with how she handled herself during the invasion. She’d been calm, efficient, and deadly. He had a good amount of respect for that kind of competency. It makes him want to get her to go with him, but she’s SHIELD through and through and she did tell him to lay off and wait. He’s maybe kind of mad about that still. 

Natasha leads him out to a meeting room. Two men stand as they come in. One’s older- graying at the temples, using a cane, probably an old injury- and smiling tersely. The other’s probably around Steve’s age and barely holding back excitement. Steve shakes both their hands.

“Captain,” the older man greets. “Thank you for joining us. My name is Edward Lind and I’m from the Department of Veterans Affairs. This is Sam Wilson. He’s accompanying me for training purposes.”

Wilson’s eyes are bright and he seems just a bit stunned. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

That’s a little uncomfortable but Steve manages his best Captain America smile as they sit around the table. “The pleasure’s all mine. What can I do for you fellas?”

“Captain, we were contacted and advised of your survival just after the alien attack,” Lind explains, shuffling some paperwork in front of him. “Though, news coverage of the event had already made it obvious there was _someone_ playing at Captain America, we did not have confirmation until afterward that it was you.”

Makes sense. It is kind of seventy years in the future. Steve wonders when that stopped surprising him.

“We wanted to make sure to reach out to you so that you were aware of services available to you as a veteran. Things have changed a lot since your time and support for our armed forces personnel has expanded.”

He pushes over a pack of stapled papers for Steve to flip through. “Now, I understand that your status with the Army is in some flux, as you had been listed KIA before that alien business, but we want to make sure you know that the VA will support you if you have any need.”

“I… Thank you? But I’m not sure what you mean,” Steve says honestly because it’s not like he needs medical care with the serum and SHIELD taking care of all that.

“We have a network of providers to assist with medical, housing, or legal matters. As I understand it, your back pay hasn’t been granted to you in full with consideration to inflation,” Lind says and Steve just blinks because if the ridiculous sum in his new bank account isn’t all his back pay, just how much is it?! Lind folds his hands and gives Steve a grave look over the edge of his glasses. “There doesn’t seem to have been a decision on whether or not to reinstate your rank, or your post mortem promotions, either.”

Steve blinks again. He hadn’t honestly considered that. “You know I wasn’t actually put through officer training, right? I didn’t- I barely got through basic. And only because they wanted to put me on Erskine’s serum.”

“That’s not really a thing most people care about,” Wilson says and then doesn’t back down when Lind gives him a harsh glance. “Look, the President of the United States could tell everyone you aren’t actually a captain and no one would give him the time of day.”

Lind sighs. “There is that point. There’s also the fact that a Colonel Phillips apparently fought for your records to be amended with your assumed rank. And you more than proved its accuracy.”

Well, will wonders never cease. Steve’s not sure how to feel about that. He’d been pretty sure Phillips was going to find a way to kill him for all the shenanigans one of these days. 

“Agent Peggy Carter did, too,” Wilson adds in. “She’s probably the backbone of why it worked.”

Steve closes his eyes as a stab of bone deep pain hits his chest. Of course she did. Of course Peggy Carter made sure of something like that. He remembers Fury’s report and then feels ashamed that he still hasn’t gone to see her. He really should. She’d kick him for putting it off so long and he’d deserve it.

“Okay,” he says, mostly for himself. “Okay. So, what exactly is it you guys are offering?”

“Assistance with medical care, counseling, and continued education, if you like,” Lind says with a tilted nod. “Help finding work or just knowing there is a community for you to connect with. Advocacy for various difficult matters. Assistance in your reintegration with modern society. The VA is fairly adaptable to your needs.”

Education? Steve hadn’t really considered that. For Tony, sure. The kid is an absolute genius and it would be a crime not to make sure he got the schooling he needed. But Steve? He’d done _art_. And while he misses the routine and the time for creativity, he’s not sure that’s the kind of life he should be living anymore. Not when he can do more. Do something more important. 

“You don’t have to decide anything now, man,” Wilson assures him and there’s something softer, kinder on his face now. He’s got a pretty swell smile when he isn’t starstruck. “We’re not here to decide your entire future, set in stone. Just letting you know there are options to think about and people to help.”

Steve lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Okay. That makes him feel better, weirdly. He looks at the pamphlet and flips another page. It seems a bit too much to really read at the moment but he appreciates the thought. 

Lind reaches over and turns it back to the first page, tapping his finger in a top corner where there’s some contact information. “You just let us know. I’ll be handling your case personally, should you choose to use any of our services. That way you’ve got a familiar face who isn’t going to potentially just want to shake your hand and get a lot of autographs.”

Kind of him. Steve nods numbly. He’s not sure why he feels so overwhelmed by any of this. It’s not like it's more shocking than waking up in a different century or finding out aliens exist. 

“So what are you wanting in return?” Steve asks because he’s not stupid. 

Lind sighs. “Son, these services are available to all veterans to one extent or another. You’re a special case but not in the sense of what’s being offered or why. We’re not asking you for anything. If you chose to give, that would be appreciated. If you chose to throw weight around Washington, you’d get a big thank you, but none of this is _required_.”

Sure. The suspicion must show on his face because Wilson shakes his head and says, “You don’t have to do a single thing. We’d help you anyway. It’s the right thing to do.”

Wilson’s got an honest face, the kind that makes Steve want to believe this is really as benevolent as it sounds. He’ll think about it.

The meeting finishes up soon after that. Steve shakes their hands, doesn’t tell Sam about his nice smile, and then follows Natasha back towards his quarters. She’s quiet on the way and it takes him a bit to realize that it’s not quite her usual closed off manner. There’s a tightness at the corner of her mouth, a restlessness in her hands, stuffed down into the pockets of her hooded, SHIELD marked jacket. Halfway back to his rooms, she pauses and lifts a hand to her ear. Then-

“Rogers, head back on your own. I’ve got to check into something,” she says without looking at him, intent on whatever she’s hearing from her hidden earpiece. “Give the rugrat a noogie for me. His hair was too neat.”

“Sure.”

She’s moving before he even finishes. Steve shakes his head a bit and does as he’s told for once in his piss poor excuse of a life. His younger self would try to kick his ass and Steve might actually let him. He feels stagnant. Aimless. Like his purpose has dried up and wasted away. He knows it hasn’t. He knows there is still good work to be done in the world. It’s just...

Things were so much easier in the war. He had concrete goals. He had a team of guys that he’d walk through fire for. He was always busy, always doing something or going somewhere, always sure of his goals. And he’d had Bucky then.

Steve sighs a little at that but resolutely walks down halls that are starting to get familiar when he hears something close by.

“- _Peggy Carter?!_ ”

And it’s not as if he can stop himself from going dead still.

“I thought her place was bugged to high heaven?” says a second voice, skeptical. They’re both unfamiliar but he commits them to memory for later anyway.

“And with twenty-four hour surveillance, you know the stories about that lady. Not like we’re putting anything to chance. Sharon’d have our balls if Fury didn’t got us first.”

“So how the hell did someone get in and out without _anyone_ noticing?!”

Wait. Steve’s heartbeat abruptly doubles. Someone had gotten- Someone- He doesn’t think. He immediately rounds the corner. Two agents look up in surprise. Youngish, possibly as well trained as Clint and Natasha but doubtful. Steve’s got both of them against a wall in a second flat, one hand at each of their breastbones to keep them firmly in place.

“What happened to Peggy Carter’s place?” he asks as calmly as he can, which isn’t very. They stare at him for a second, then share quick glances.

“We’re not supposed to tell-”

“Rogers- sir, you’re not supposed to-”

“Do I look like I care what I’m supposed to know or not?” Steve’s eyes narrow and he’s gratified that it makes more impact than it had on anyone else lately. “You’re going to tell me what happened to Peggy Carter. _Right_ _now_.”

Steve is not all that intimidating outside of his sheer size, he knows. He’s got a pleasant face and everyone in the future thinks he’s sparkles and sunshine. This apparently doesn’t apply when he’s three inches away and pushing you nearly hard enough to crack the plaster against your back without really putting much effort into it.

They tell him. In short, stilted sentences, they tell him that Peggy Carter’s well watched, well protected home was breached and she’s gone without a trace. For a few seconds, Steve doesn’t breathe. Then he lets go and heads back to his rooms. He doesn’t hear what they say after, or what anyone else does along the way. He takes one step at a time. When he gets there, he closes the door quietly behind him and just… 

Someone went after Peggy. He’s pretty damn sure it has to do with him. And he will never forgive himself if she gets hurt.

He comes to himself in time to fend off some kind of projectile- Oh. It’s an eraser. He looks up and Tony’s staring at him from a few feet away. Tony’s face is… off. Steve should probably ask him why, see what’s wrong, but he can’t stop thinking about Peggy. He can’t stop, not when she’s not safe, not when he _never went to see her._

Tony asks a question. Steve sees his lips move but he can’t hear him. His blood is pumping too loud in his ears and his lungs feel too small and he’s-

He has to find her. He has to get out of here.

“It’s time,” he says and the fog in his mind breaks into a deafening silence. “I need- It’s time to leave.”

It’s earlier than they were planning but Tony doesn’t even blink. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ve got you an opening,” is Tony’s reaction, calm and unaffected. He turns from Steve and walks over to where his computer sits, precariously on the edge of the table. “Give me five minutes to set up the loops.”

Steve doesn’t want to but he can’t mess this up. He has to get out on the first try or he won’t have another and SHIELD didn’t even tell him she was missing, why would he ever trust them to let him go after her?

This is probably a trap. A callout. They knew he’d come into the open for her, if no one else. He knows but he’ll go anyway. He has to. He is not leaving Peggy Carter alone.

He busies himself checking over the bugout bag he’s had packed for a week but Tony makes good on his estimate. He outlines the route specifically, down to seconds of timing, and Steve finds he’s able to commit it to his near eidetic memory even in his state of low grade panic and fiercely burning anger at the very idea of anyone laying their goddamn hands on Peggy. 

He adjusts the straps of his backpack and turns to the door. “Come on-”

But Tony stops dead and gives him a look like he’d said something really stupid. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What? Tony!” Steve doesn’t have time for this. The window of opportunity is narrowing quickly. 

“No.” Tony’s voice is clear and steady without even a hint of doubt. “I’m not leaving when I’ve only hit the fourth level of encrypted files.”

Steve stares at him without comprehension. Tony sighs a bit, raking a hand back through his hair.

“Look,” he starts, like this is some kind of debate. “I’m awesomely good but I need time and opportunity if I’m going to crack the mainframe-”

“You’re _still_ hacking SHIELD?!”

“Well _duh._ ” He rolls his eyes, shoulders lifting with exaggeration before falling loose again. “SHIELD knows what happened to the old man. You know they do. _I_ know they do. They won’t tell me. It’s practically an open challenge to hack the info from them and I’m not going to manage it out in the world and jumping from place to place.”

Steve starts to say something and Tony jerks his hand to silence him. “I need to know how my parents really died, Steve. I can’t just… I can’t _not_ know the truth.”

And there it is. Steve’s chest goes tight because he gets it. He doesn’t want to but he does. If it were him… Well. He wouldn’t stop until he’d found out the truth. Even so, he’s not just going to leave Tony here alone-

Except he’s not alone. He’s probably in the safest possible place, surrounded by super spies and well trained soldiers, a surveillance system Steve couldn’t ever have dreamed of despite the science fiction novels he’d curled up with as a teenager. Tony is the antithesis of alone and if anything, Natasha would check on him, probably keep Fury from stuffing him into a corner and forgetting him. Barton, too, he bet. They seemed the type to be a little protective. 

“Tony, _please_ ,” Steve still says, soft and pleading. 

Tony’s face hasn’t cracked while Steve stares him down, hasn’t flinched. He’s so sure of himself in this moment in a way he hasn’t been before, not really. “You need to go.”

Steve doesn’t want to leave him but he can’t wait. He has a mission, a purpose, and he would never forgive himself if he missed his window fighting with Tony. 

Tony will be safe here. Peggy _isn’t._ There’s no good decision.

“I’ve got my phone and you’ve got my number, so get the hell out of here, Grandpa. You’re gonna be late.”

Steve can’t speak. He gives a sharp nod and then he goes because he has to.

\----

He got to meet Captain America today. Sam’s still a little over the moon about it. Edward had gone back to the hotel, but Sam still needs some time to bask. He’s never been the groupie type but there’s celebrities and then there’s _superheros_. He thinks he’s allowed to be excited.

His mom agrees and she’s good enough to say “oo” and “ah” in all the right places. She tells him to invite Captain America to dinner sometime because of course she does. She even promises to bring out the good china. Who could resist kindness like that? Any good, true blooded American, that’s not who.

Sam lets himself daydream about poor Steve Rogers, who is way more awkward in person than he’d ever imagined, dealing with the onslaught of his mom in full hostess mode. It’s enough to bring a tear to the eye, he laughs so hard. 

He’s still wiping his eyes when he sees a familiar brick shithouse of a white man attempt to sneak into the space between two buildings without being seen (abject failure at being unnoticed.) Not that Sam does much judging of other guys’ lives, but this seems a bit weird to him. He wonders if Cap’s okay. Curiosity too piqued to ignore, Sam heads over a lot less conspicuously. 

Rogers barely fits with those ridiculous shoulders of his and the pack on his back. He’s hunched over his cell phone, tapping at it with frustration.

“Which one is the right damned icon?” Rogers grumbles with obvious frustration, in a tone Sam never heard in any of the serials he watched in preparation for the earlier meeting. 

Wow. Cap’s an actual, bona fide human being. Who’da thunk. 

“Need some help?” he can’t help offering and Rogers jerks his head up so fast, Sam worries a bit about whiplash. “Didn’t mean to interrupt but you are not great at sneaking around, just so you know.”

“Ain’t my fault,” Rogers says, still clearly annoyed. “I’m used to the European theatre. Less people, more trees and Nazis.”

Good point. Sam steps closer and gestures for the phone. It takes a few seconds for Rogers to hand it over and Sam is not surprised that it’s newer than his. As if anyone would give Captain America an out of date phone. 

“So, you’re looking for…?”

“The one for directions.”

Sam doesn’t tease him (not the time for it) and just points out the right icon for him. Rogers mutters a thanks as he takes it back and then punches in Washington, D.C. painfully slowly. Which, sure, there’s a lot of great stuff to see in D. C. but this seems like a kind of spur of the moment type thing considering Rogers is alone in an alley fighting with his phone. 

“Vacation?” Sam cautiously ventures.

“Look,” Rogers starts, lips pressed to a firm line, “thanks for help but I’ve got something I’ve gotta do and-”

Not vacation.

“There’s trouble,” Sam guesses and Rogers has a crap poker face, he really does. Well, that decides his weekend. He was bored anyway. “When do you need to be there by? I’ve got some flyer miles saved up.”

Rogers blinks owlishly at him. “What?”

“How were you planning on getting there? _Walking?_ ”

“Steal a car?” Rogers says helplessly and if that isn’t just the damnedest thing. _Captain America was going to steal a car_. This is the best day ever. Sam is never going to forget a single moment of this.

“That probably worked in Germany but we’ve got OnStar now,” Sam says and Rogers has no idea what he’s talking about, that’s adorable. “They’d track down your location. Actually, plane’s probably a bad idea, too. I’m figuring you don’t want to get followed?”

Rogers nods slowly like he’s encountered some kind of wild animal and doesn’t want to startle it. Or maybe just doesn’t want to startle himself.

“I’ve got a rental. Way less trouble. We’ll make a party of it.”

That finally seems to break Rogers from the stupor. He sighs, reaching up to pinch between his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re getting into-”

“Helping Captain America take a road trip to D.C. to do something that hasn’t been approved by SHIELD and is probably all kinds of dangerous?” Sam asks sweetly and is rewarded by Rogers glaring at him. “Man, I was _pararescue_. There’s not much that scares me these days. And I am not going to leave you high and dry with no backup. When do we leave?”

“Now,” Rogers says, giving in to the inevitable. Good, Sam didn’t want to use all his negotiation points in the first fight. 

Rogers doesn’t tell him why they’re going to D.C. He doesn’t really get a chance. Ten steps to Sam’s rental car, someone shoots at them. And, really, Sam had kind of been hoping to avoid being shot at when he came back home but he reacts just as quickly as he had before discharge. Trigger tight, battle fatigued, high strung Steve Rogers is the same. 

Sam’s not armed but Rogers brought the shield. Sam would be over the moon about how much better the ping of a bullet ricocheting off it sounds in person rather than a newsreel from the 40s but he’s a little too busy getting the car unlocked so they can book it. There’s a hole in the back window a second after they slide in the front seats but Sam doesn’t feel anything so he ignores it as he gets the engine going. Can’t be assed to pay attention when there’s a job to be done. 

They barely speak on the way out of the city. The shooting stops within four blocks but Sam doesn’t slow down or stop evasion practices. They change cars at the edge of the city and Sam has the unexpected pleasure of watching Captain America hotwire the new one. He feels kind of guilty for that but he leaves a note in the rental so they can get in touch with him later and get their car back.

If he doesn’t get his fool ass killed over this. Oh well. Worth it.

It’s an hour into Pennsylvania and after a second car change before Rogers tells him why they’re going. And, well. Sam can respect a quest like this. He decides he’s going to make sure Rogers doesn’t get himself killed before they manage it. He figures it’s kind of his duty as an American citizen to keep Captain America alive. 

\----

He’s quiet, whoever he is. Peggy’s been around a lot of kinds before, but there’s a stillness to this man that seems almost artificial. Like a machine trying not very hard at being a man. He hasn’t spoken more that three words to her and those consisted of “comply” and “stay there.” The gun was the real negotiator.

Peggy’s never been great at following orders unless she absolutely has to, which unfortunately is the case right now. She stays where he indicated. At least he didn’t try to get her out of the wheelchair. That would have made it very difficult for her eventual escape or rescue. 

He hasn’t made any demands so there’s not anything she has that he wants from her personally. He hasn’t made any calls so either there’s no ransom or someone else is doing it for him (more likely). He hasn’t even made any show of force to cow her into submission outside the first instance of gun waving. She wonders if he’s bringing her to meet someone. It’s been a good few years since that happened. 

She only had one small pistol on her when he appeared in her room and he’d relieved her of it without a word. An oversight on her part.

His cold, empty eyes are locked on the door. He hasn’t responded to any questions, staying stubbornly mute, but occasionally he looks at her, almost like he’s trying to figure her out or possibly because she’s annoying him. She’s leaning to the former. Most of his face is hidden with a mask but the skin around his eyes and brows haven’t so much as twitched the whole time he’s had her. She’s not sure he feels anything at all. 

Her gaze falls once again to the metal arm and she wonders the story behind it. She doubts it’s a good one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking I should tag this "Steve's A++ ideas" to go along with 'Howard's A++ parenting".


	16. Anything Goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaahahahaha yeeeeaaahhh I have no excuse. But now I have a job where there are long stretches of empty time and an internet connection so the next one might possibly not take a goddamn year.

Steve isn’t sure if he should be guilty that he’s dragging Wilson along or pissed off that the guy invited himself in. Considering this is the fifth song in a row that Wilson has sung along to at full volume, he’s leaning towards the latter. Sam Wilson is a goddamn _menace._

There are times Steve knows Bucky would laugh at the way his life has gone and this is definitely one of them. Bucky would probably get a kick out of Wilson. They both liked pushing his buttons as far as he’d let them. 

It’s still a stabbing inner pain, thinking about Bucky, but he’s trying.

At least the long drive that Wilson isn’t letting him take another shift behind the wheel on (“Where the _hell_ did you learn to drive?!” “Nazi Germany.”) means Steve has plenty of time to explore and tinker with the cell phone. It isn’t hard when he’s not actively resisting it. He explores the programs- _applications_. There is a calculator and compass on here. Scratchpad, camera, _flashlight_. This is… maybe not as bad as he’d thought. Steve tinkers for most of an hour before he opens up the internet application. He’s been a little stubborn about that, too, because the wealth of knowledge available to him doesn’t seem _real_. Just for kicks, he asks the google who the current monarch of England is and-

“Oh my god,” Steve says, feeling like he’s been punched.

Wilson stiffens beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Princess Elizabeth is _still alive!_ ”

Wilson blinks, quiet for a moment, and then says, “She’s queen now.”

“She was queen _then_. She just didn’t have the crown yet.”

“Are you telling me you met Queen Elizabeth II?”

Steve just looks up at him because this is one of the first bits of personally relevant, really good news he’s gotten for the seventy years he spent under the ice. “I’m Captain America. Of course they paraded me over at the ATS. And of course they made sure she was there to meet me.”

“What-”

“She’d just been named Junior Commander.” Steve is grinning like an idiot, he knows he is, he just can’t help it. _Princess Elizabeth was still alive_. He can still see the young woman he’d met in her aged face. “She insulted my uniform and offered to help get me a better one. And then she offered to drive my squad’s transport.”

Wilson laughs, a bit airy and shocked, but still a laugh. “You’re telling me that _Queen Elizabeth II_ served in _WWII_ and wanted to work with _you?_ I don’t know which part is more unbelievable.”

“It’s freely available on her wit- wiki pedia? Her wikipedia article.” Steve is soaking up every word. “She didn’t change a _bit_.”

“Man, if you could see yourself from the outside, you’d be dying laughing.” Wilson just grins at the dirty look Steve shoots him. “Maybe if you’re real good when we get back and haven’t been jailed for this stunt, SHIELD will let you call her up and confess that adorable crush-”

“Fuck you, Wilson.”

And then Wilson laughs so hard he almost crashes the car. Steve is still strung pretty tight considering the mission they’re on, but he can’t say the brief diversion isn’t a bit of a relief. He can’t really hold onto the annoyance, not when Wilson’s laugh is bright and loud and utterly unrestrained in the best ways. He laughs until he’s nearly crying and then finally winds down to an occasional snicker when he remembers something or other. Steve resolves to put something gross in his shoes later.

It is nice, though. That something from his time is still around, still _familiar_. Her body’s changed but he thinks if he met her, she’d know him. She might even insult the suit again. He half hopes she would. But thinking about a woman like her, strong and capable and stubborn, just brings him right back to _Peggy_.

Steve sobers abruptly. Peggy’s absence is like a sore tooth and he hates himself so much for not going to her until her life was literally on the line. He wonders if she’ll be angry with him. He’d deserve it.

“So this Carter woman, she was your girl, right?” Wilson asks, cutting through the silence as if he could read Steve’s mind.

“I- No. Not really,” he says. “I was maybe going to ask her out properly after the war, but… She wasn’t _anybody’s_.”

Wilson nods and says nothing more in a pointed way that Steve is pretty sure must be intentional. 

“Peggy was phenomenal,” Steve finds himself saying. He leans back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. “She worked ten times harder than any man I served with. Had a mean right hook.”

“Gotta love a woman who can kick your ass.”

Steve’s surprised when he laughs at that. It sounds rusty in his ears. “If they’d given her the serum instead of me, Peggy would’ve ended the war in two days, tops.”

“Nice. Sounds like my kind of girl.” Wilson glances at him from the corner of his eye and adds, “Lady like that? She’s probably fine. She might even take care of the bad guys before we get there.”

And that’s what hits Steve in the chest hardest, that he’s not there to make sure of it. Peggy is elderly and bedridden at that, from the file Coulson sent. There’d been some mention of high blood pressure, a weakened heart… Peggy can’t watch her back anymore and he’s so angry at himself for not being with her to make sure she was safe. 

“Hey,” Wilson murmurs, dragging Steve out of his head. “I know it’s hard but you have to keep your head in the game. Don’t let them beat you before you’ve even started.”

Steve looks at him, studies the calm in his face and the sure set of his jaw. The rub of it is that Wilson is right. He has to go at this with hope or he’ll die before they get there.

“...Thanks.”

Wilson snorts. “Just doing my patriotic duty. Someone needs to look after you.”

The bickering that follows helps to take the edge off and Steve lets it gratefully. Maybe if he could keep from worrying about her, Peggy would be fine.

\----

The man with the metal arm leaves the room once and comes back with food for her. He has nothing for himself but Peggy assumes he ate outside. Dragging her pill case from his bag on the floor, he knocks out the evening doses for her. They all look the same as she’s used to, no more or less, but she still hesitates. He doesn’t hurry her, doesn’t seem to care if she takes them or not so much as just making sure she has them at all. After a while of debate, she takes them and hopes for the best. If something in there kills her, at least she won’t have to sit through another episode of _The Bold and the Beautiful_ and not make any terrible jokes about it. For some reason, her few and brief visits to the common areas were not exactly favored by her fellow geriatrics. 

They’ve been here for hours now and her back has a terrible cramp from being seated so long without lying down straight. She may be in her right mind, as much as she ever was, but her body has not fared well in her later years. 

She blames her late husband’s smoking habit. May as well. It certainly can’t be the fact that she’s near a century.

“Don’t get old,” she tells the man. He turns to her, expressionless with his mask, and she continues, “There’s little to be had for it.”

He doesn’t answer but he also doesn’t look away. His brows twitch, bunching just a little between his eyes, but it’s not anger. She’s sure of that. 

“I need to use the loo. As you neglected to bring a nurse along on this grand adventure of ours, you’ll have to help me out of the chair.”

He stands so very still, not twitching a muscle. It’s like he’s testing her but Peggy just stares him down. She’s had plenty of practice not being intimidated by anyone. The man relents after several minutes. He steps to the door and opens it, then slips behind the chair to push her. She _can_ do it for herself for a few feet, but there’s no reason to exert herself right now when she has no idea when she might need that strength. 

It’s unnerving not to have him in her sight, though. If he wanted, he could cut her throat and end it right there. He doesn’t and is very careful not to jostle her, careful enough that she’s almost startled by it. She wonders if he has a grandmother and might be projecting. If he is, that could be useful. Peggy ponders this as they fumble through the process she stopped being embarrassed about the _years_ ago. It was hard to muster up the energy after a while.

As he’s settling her back into the chair, Peggy takes the chance offered and goes for the handgun at his side. She manages to get her hand around it while he’s distracted but the moment she tries to draw it, fingers like steel rods clamp around her wrist. Peggy looks up, wondering if _this_ is when he’ll show his true colors, but he just stares back at her over the edge of his mask. His eyes aren’t blank like she’d thought. They’re intense, focused, like a rifle sight. She finds herself frozen before them but it isn’t fear. It’s something deeper than that, old instinct from her evolutionary past warning her that if she moves, if she breaks first, she’ll have lost the battle. 

He presses a spot in her wrist and her hold goes abruptly slack before he places her hand almost delicately onto her lap. When he’s straightened and gone behind to push her back to the holding room, she has to ask him, “Why didn’t you break it?”

He’s quiet long enough that she doesn’t think he’ll answer until he abruptly does.

“Collateral damage outside the target is to be kept to a minimum,” he says by rote, like he’s parroting the words of another. The words aren’t cold so much as lifeless. No anger, no regret, _nothing_. Peggy wonders what’s been done to this man because it’s very obvious something has. 

“You must know I’ll try again if I see an opportunity.”

The grunt that answers her is more than she expected after the hours he’d not made a sound. The man with the metal arm settles her again in the holding room and goes back to his spot to stand guard. Peggy takes the time to really look at him. He doesn’t move as smoothly as she’d expect from a martial artist, more like the soldiers she’d known in her youth. There’s an economy in his movements that sets him apart, though. Very little effort wasted, if any. 

The metal arm seems the most remarkable. He uses it like his own. A well crafted armor layer? But why only _one_ arm? And the range of his movement in it, the way there’s never a breach in the plating… A prosthetic, she decides, one far more sophisticated than she’s ever seen. Had she been of an engineering mind, she might be more interested in how it worked but her attention is far more drawn to the potential that arm has. During the initial abduction, she’d seen him punch straight into a wall with no trouble to tear out the security lines. She doubts that’s the extent of its use or strength.

“Where did you get that?” she asks and he looks back to her but says nothing. “Right, I suppose it was silly of me to ask. It’s just remarkable. I can’t help being curious.”

The man looks down at his arm and flexes his fingers. There’s no pride to his gaze, no sense of power. He wasn’t responsible for the arm, she decides. Nor did he seem to care about it past what he needs to do with it. Interesting. He drops his hand and goes back to staring at her again. It might be her imagination, but she thinks he perhaps looks a little lost.

“Can you at least tell me your name?” Silence of a quality that’s quickly turning furtive. “All right. What can I call you? I need something.”

“Soldier.” This comes quickly, no hesitation. A title? Or a designation. She’s not sure and her gut tells her it’s something in between.

“Soldier. I wish i could say it’s nice to meet you but I’m quite tired and my back is aching fiercely from this exciting day.” 

Peggy doesn’t expect him to react to that so when he does it’s startling. Soldier moves to one of the corners behind her and she follows the sounds of his movements curiously. Something like fabric, the click of plastic and twang of metal slotting into place. Building something?

He finishes and then takes hold of the chair to turn her slowly around. And… Well, that should certainly help some, now shouldn’t it? The camp bed doesn’t look comfortable in the least but there’s a thin pillow at the head and a blanket folded up beside it. 

“You’re prepared,” she says and then lets him lift her from the chair to lay down. A soft sigh of relief as her aching spine straightens is more than she meant to express but he doesn’t say anything about it. Soldier picks up the blanket and pauses, watching her. “Oh. Yes, please. Thank you. There’s a draft.”

The blanket does make her feel more comfortable. It’s cheap, synthetic fabric that’s a little rough under her fingers but it’s the thought that counts, she supposes. 

“How long will we be here?” she asks as she settles the blanket a little more comfortably.

“Until the target arrives.”

And that makes her blood run cold. She’s not a ransom. She’s _bait_.

\----

“We followed the camera manipulation back to you and frankly I’m not at all surprised,” Fury says, his voice only barely distorted over the video call audio. Tony minimizes the window. 

“Whoop-de-doo,” he grumbles, continuing to work. He’d started writing up the code to distract himself because Steve is an asshole and Tony absolutely does not need him. The program should make his search easier, let him trace multiple leads at once. Useful, almost elegant.

He has never written in this language before and has no idea why he knows it will work. 

The grammar and syntax of the code feel familiar, even if he only knows it once he’s completed a line. It should scare him but it doesn’t. The same thing happened weeks ago when he discovered the public use computers at the library. As soon he’d touched one, he’d known how to work it. The graphical interface made things far easier than the command line he‘d known but even that had changed in the thirtyish years he’d missed. None of that had mattered. He’d gone into it as if he’d always known them.

Tony supposes it’s part of being a genius. He just doesn’t quite remember taking to something as quickly before being thrown through time. 

“Are you listening to me?!” Fury snarls and Tony realizes he’s probably been ranting for a couple minutes now. He glances at the little indicator box and yeah, about ten minutes gone. He hasn’t retained a word of it.

“Nope,” he says, probably the most honest answer he’s ever had for a question. 

“Do you realize just how much danger he’s in now? Danger that could have been avoided if he’d just sat tight while we figured out an actual plan instead of this suicide run?!”

Tony stalls mid word. The cursor blinks at him accusingly. 

“Captain America’s nigh unbeatable,” he says after a bit. “He’s fueled by freedom, justice, and the American way.”

“He’s just as human as you or me,” Fury counters. “We’re on the move to see if we can keep him alive but when this is over, you and I are going to have a _very_ unpleasant conversation.”

“You better make sure Steve’s there for it. As a child under the age of eighteen, my legal guardian is required to be present for any kind of interrogation.”

“One of these days, your smart mouth is going to get you into a lot of trouble.”

Tony snorts. “Like it hasn’t already.”

He maximizes the window and then promptly shuts off the video feed just because he can and it’ll make Fury mad. Fury’s an unhappy guy in general but getting him really wound up is a beautiful thing. Tony’s already pushed him hard enough to know he won’t take a swing at him and in Tony’s book, that’s prime invitation to annoy the crap out of him. 

He regards the code again. It’s nearly finished, just needs finishing touches before he releases it into the mainframe, but the oddest thing about it is that it doesn’t seem… like it should be independent. Which is silly. Tony needs it to work on its own and send him the results. He wonders if he can draw up an algorithm to process the data and abruptly knows he _can_. 

Tony rubs at his sore eyes. He’s been at this too long. Getting up, Tony locks down his laptop and wanders around the apartment for a few minutes. He’s antsy, hemmed in, so he heads out the door. Technically, Tony isn’t supposed to wander without an escort. He’s never really liked babysitters (barring Clint, maybe) but it’s not like he really cares about the rules when Steve’s not around to enforce them.

He needs to not think about Steve and that Steve left him here to go be a hero and that he’s mad about it anyway. 

The halls aren’t quiet or empty but busy agents don’t really pay attention to him, he’s found. The amount of time he’d spent wandering while Steve was in the medical ward attests to that. As long as he do meet their eyes or bump them as they pass, the agents ignore him. There’s an assumption that he’s been told to go somewhere and Tony takes full advantage of it.

At least until he finds himself in front of the entrance to Loki’s cell room. The guard gives him a look like he’s just waiting to Tony to try something. Considering he’s about three times Tony’s size, that is maybe a bad idea. 

“I was just looking,” Tony says in his best innocent voice.

The guard’s brow lifts. “Uh-huh. Go look somewhere else.”

Tony thinks about pushing the issue but that wouldn’t really further his aims much. He heads off with a slump in his shoulders. Half an hour later, he’s easing himself out of a vent inside. Tony drops maybe six feet but it still jars his ankles painfully when he lands. There’s no one inside right now, not with the twenty or so cameras pointed at Loki twenty-four hours a day. 

They’re looping. Now that Fury knows what to look for, he doubts it’ll keep for long. 

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Loki says from his seat at the bolted down table. He doesn’t look nearly as sick as he did the last time Tony saw him but that didn’t mean he wasn’t faking health. Loki’s head rests on his raised hand like Tony’s late and he’s been waiting. 

“I was bored.” Tony drags a chair over in front of the cell and flops into it carelessly. “Figured I’d visit the other bird in the gilded cage.”

Loki snorts inelegantly. He hasn’t bothered to straighten, not for Tony. There’s no merit in the play at control. Tony kind of wishes he didn’t understand that. 

“Not reveling in your victory, I take it.”

“Not really _mine_. You know why same as I do.” Tony fiddles with his cell phone a bit and then asks, “Do you know why you’d send me here?”

Loki considers it only a moment before giving out flippantly, “Entertainment, no doubt.”

“He said I was needed but he said I’m the reason Captain America dies. How is that entertainment?”

“I’ve been told my sense of humor is morbid.” Loki shifts back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Why do you think _I_ have the answers you seek?”

“Who else am I going to ask? The Blue Fairy?” A least the lack of understanding on Loki’s face is kind of funny. It helps soothe the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. “Maybe it’s good he left.”

“Oh, did the good Captain abandon you already?”

Tony glares at him but Loki just gets more smug. His broken fingers throb but he still wants to punch the glass again anyway. “I don’t even know why I bothered to come down here.”

“I do.”

It’s abrupt enough that Tony’s caught. “...Why?”

Loki rises to his feet. He steps over to the glass, looming far too tall over Tony to be comfortable. It’s probably on purpose. 

“You’re looking for something,” Loki observes with a tilt of his head. “Not simply the truth about your parents, I think.”

“What would _you_ know about it?” Tony snarls out like a gauntlet being thrown.

“Because I have done the same.”

The anger fades, leaving Tony with nothing but an aching emptiness in his chest. He wishes his parents were alive even if they ignored him most of the time. He wishes Jarvis was still alive so Tony could spend the afternoon listening to him chat with his wife in the kitchen as they made meals for the family. He wishes he still had his _life_.

He wishes Steve hadn’t left him alone.

“Did you find it?” Tony asks and his voice rasps like it’s painful to talk.

Loki’s expression is strange and Tony has no idea how to read it. It’s not smug or threatening or even uninterested. His eyes shutter away the strangeness quickly.

“Perhaps it is not meant to be found,” he says finally. It’s not what Tony wanted to hear but Loki goes back to his chair and very pointedly looks towards the back of the cell. 

Tony thinks about demanding more than cryptic riddles but that’s about the time SHIELD figures out about the cameras. He doesn’t fight them as he’s escorted back to his room. Everything feels weird in the wake of words that Tony wants to believe were sincere. He shouldn’t. He of all people shouldn’t trust anything Loki says, but he still finds himself wanting to. Rather than let himself stew, Tony tugs open the laptop and starts back into his project. He wants to get this thing in the mainframe pronto.

Fury video calls to yell at him again about fucking with the cameras but Tony is even less interested this time. He finishes up the last bits of code for his data miner and sets it free in the mainframe using the signal from Fury to mask the origin. Tony isn’t sure why he knows how to do that. He’s not sure he _wants_ to know at this point. Everytime someone’s asked about something or other he can do, it’s taken everything to keep from letting them know he has no idea. It’s bad enough that they know about the time travel thing. 

Tony cuts off the video feed from Fury again but it isn’t as satisfying this time. He shuts the program down so he doesn’t have to deal with it later and drops his attention back to the code. The idea of something to analyze the data keeps nagging at him so he starts building that. It starts slow, setting some vague framework he only half understands, just like the other one did. Then he starts the meat of it and... It’s like he’s written this before and now he’s just dictating it down. He tries not to think about it too much. 

As he builds up the analyzer, he starts getting the feeling that this is going to be way too big for the laptop hard drive to contain by the time he’s done. Asking Fury is out of the question but he could probably create a fake order for more of them to be delivered to the apartment. Well, not like he’s going to get them any other way.

It occurs to Tony that Steve wouldn’t approve. He hesitates a moment and then remembers that he doesn’t give a shit what Steve would think. Steve’s not here so he doubles the order and attaches it to a group of legitimate ones. 

There’s a pang of guilt. Tony steadfastly ignores it and lets himself dive back into the code headlong. He doesn’t have to think about things, doesn’t have to feel. Just take it line by line by line…

It feels like only a moment later that someone’s hand waves in front of his face and Tony jerks abruptly from the coding fugue. He blinks a few times, follows the hand up an arm and shoulder and… 

“You with me now?” Clint says with a tired smile, dropping his hand. He looks better than the last time Tony saw him, even if his eyes are still dark rimmed. “Man, you go in deep, don’t you?”

“What are you doing here? It’s not time for-” Tony glances at the clock. It’s been way longer than he thought. He looks at the code and there are a couple thousand lines already. The shape of what he’s making is getting a lot clearer. It’s… Huh. This isn’t just a data analyzer anymore.

“That’s why I brought dinner with me. Cap would kick my ass if I let you starve,” Clint says as he nudges Tony’s computer away and Tony barely keeps from flinching at the mention of Steve.

He almost drags it back so doesn’t have to think about that anymore but then his stomach clenches uncomfortably and he figures he should probably do something about that. Clint divvies out a covered tray and bottle of soda from the cafeteria to him and Tony doesn’t even care what it is; he just starts stuffing his face.

The code continues to steam past his eyes, writing itself out like some kind of map, a step-by-step instruction for… He still doesn’t know.

“Hey, space cadet. How about you come back to Earth?” Tony blinks and looks back at him as Clint lifts one brow. “So, what are you making that’s got you so distracted? Is it a game?”

“No. It’s useful,” Tony says with a shrug and he starts eating again, realizing that at some point he’d stopped.

“Games can be useful.” Clint takes a bite of- Mashed potatoes. Tony has those too, now that he’s paying attention. They really need salt.

“Games are stupid,” Tony mutters and he doesn’t even know where the anger’s coming from but it flashes through him like a tsunami. “I’m too old for that. I can make useful things.“

Clint’s quiet for a few seconds before he sets down his fork. “Yeah, I’d believe it. Who said you couldn’t?”

“No one. No, i just…” He didn’t know. He just kept seeing Steve disappear through the door and then seeing his dad do the same and- 

“Is this about Steve?”

Tony flinches that time. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling this way. Steve had tried to get Tony to go with him. It wasn’t like he’d just gone on vacation to Hawaii and not told him about it. 

“Kid, Steve’s gonna be fine. He’s pretty hardy and we’ve got a team heading out to give him backup,” Clint says, completely misinterpreting everything. Tony doesn’t correct him because he never wants to talk about it. 

He’s not hungry anymore. Tony shoves the tray back and drags his computer in again despite Clint’s efforts to comfort him. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> I can be reached for questions (and ridiculous reblogs) at my tumblr, shadowwood.tumblr.com :D (Or if you'd like to see my arts and crafts, ceilingcat.tumblr.com)


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